


Before The Morning Comes

by run_and_remember_me



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Heat Sex, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean, Porn With Plot, Prison Farm, Scenting, Slow Burn, Tracker! Dean, deep south, lots of scenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-11-06 00:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11025000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/run_and_remember_me/pseuds/run_and_remember_me
Summary: When Dean Winchester, renowned omega prison guard and tracker, is bested by the escape of high-profile convict, Lucifer Milton, Bobby invites a new colleague to aid in his recovery. Struck by inadequacy, Dean is powerless to stop the arrival of Castiel Novak, an alpha from the North, who rivals Dean in every way possible until they start to find friendship in each other. As they realize their growing attraction, Dean and Castiel must set aside their personal feelings to arrest Lucifer and bring him to justice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley raised his hands to his head in surrender. He might as well be waving a white flag, but it didn’t impress Dean. “I’m innocent. I swear,” he panted through heavy breath. Dean clicked the safety off the gun, his eyes narrowing. If he was so innocent, he wouldn’t be in a state penitentiary, let alone trying to run.
> 
> “And I’m Annie Oakley,” Dean growled, shoving the tip of the gun against him. Crowley gave a short gasp and trembled as the barrel tapped his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! I am so excited to be posting my first multi-chapter fanfiction on the archive. I've been sitting on this idea for the last two months or so, and I have to say, it's thrilling to finally write it all out. I hope to post about a chapter a week, so sit down, buckle in, and subscribe if you like it!

October 15

Heavy footfalls struck the forest floor in a rhythmic beat. Dean usually cared about stealth and silence in the woods for the sake of wild animals, but when he was on a manhunt, the last thing on his mind was the crunch of leaves under his feet. He moved along the forest floor with balance and grace. Despite his more indulgent habits, Dean was in excellent shape, his poise hard-earned in the backbreaking heat of Georgia summers. Being a guard was never easy work, but at times like these, Dean appreciated the payoff.

Most people would balk at the responsibility of tracking an escaped prisoner to bring them back alive and unharmed, but Dean would never shy away from a chance to show off.

If someone asked Dean why he liked his job, he would give them the answer they want to hear. The pay was good. He was close to family. There was a certain respect for authority and law enforcement. Sure, those things were on the list, but he would never divulge the real reason he was so keen on hunting.

He loved feeling like he had control over his life, and when he was hunting, he was more powerful than anyone else. He could pretend he’s an outlaw, brave enough to journey west and tame the wild, or a revolutionary, tough enough to rebel, or anything other than a damn prison guard, strong enough to conquer any man in his way. Dean didn’t have the brains or the alpha status of his brother, Sam, but he had talent. And that talent was the only thing that made him special, that set him apart from thousands of other nameless omegas. If that meant he only had one viable career option, he would be the best.

His muscles burned as the land beneath him sloped higher. Dean didn’t tire easily, but he started tracking Crowley around nightfall, and the sun sank behind the horizon over an hour ago. This wasn’t the first time Crowley tried to escape the prison, and if Dean’s gut told him anything, it wouldn’t be the last.

He took it as a challenge, really. Anytime a convict wanted to try their hand at running away, Dean was hot on their heels. Most were caught within a few minutes. Others got as far as the swamp near the southern border, but last month, when Alistair was stuck between Dean and an alligator, he couldn’t blame him for throwing in the towel.

Sooner or later, he beat them all in the end. It had become so routine that it was almost fun.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled through his teeth as he reached the summit. Of course Crowley would lead him straight through the roughest piece of terrain on Bobby Singer’s property. He almost questioned whether or not to proceed through the patch of briars, but if he didn’t follow his nose, he would never find Crowley. If nothing else was clear, Dean could rely on his senses.

The sharp briars stung as he waded through the scratchy mess of underbrush, thorns cutting through his pants and across his skin. All Dean could do was restrain his growl and play through the pain. Keep walking, he was almost at the finish line, he couldn’t give up now and be beaten by a limey bastard. No, thank you, Dean would gladly bleed for justice—and maybe a little for his pride.

Besides, pain was just proof of life, it was nothing to be afraid of. Dean dreaded seeing the bloody scratches on his calves later. This was his most comfortable pair of work britches, and they were going to be shredded by the cuts. He would rake Crowley over the coals when he finds him, Bobby’s ‘alive and unharmed’ policy be damned.

He will find him.

Dean always did. He had a one-hundred percent success rate at tracking down escaped prisoners. He was even hired last year to track a group of thieves suspected to be in town, and Dean caught every last one of them within twenty-four hours. Some would call his methods unhealthy and outlandish, but the secret to his success was spite.

It was, without a doubt, the best motivator he could possibly have.

Omegas didn’t exactly have a reputation for stamina and strength, but Dean loved to be the exception that proved all these douches wrong. So he could get protective and territorial and a smidge more maternal than most of his buddies. That didn’t mean he was any weaker than his alpha counterparts. In fact, his strong ability to scent made him a valuable asset when he was tracking. Not everyone could claim to have the gift of a sharp nose, even within omega circles, but his talent made a lovely parlor trick when a smartass needed to be knocked down a peg or two.

Still, it was hard to feel proud of his accomplishments tonight knowing he let Crowley get away. He hadn’t attempted escape in nearly two months, and Dean had to admit, he had gotten a little overconfident.

He sighed in relief as the ground sloped down beneath him. Despite the terrain being easier than going uphill, the decline was far more dangerous. He had to remind himself to hold onto trees so he doesn’t lose his balance on the slippery autumn leaves. Dean slowed when he reached the river and turned his nose to the sky.

The water undoubtedly hid telling footprints, but Dean’s nose had never failed him. What set him apart from others made him damn near predatory on a hunt like this. He could usually control his senses in small group settings, but tonight, he needed to focus on the scents around him. A wave of nausea came over him as he concentrated on the faint smell of rotten eggs growing stronger each second.

There were plenty of swamps in the South, but Dean knew this was a very distinctive scent. Crowley.

Since his arrival at the prison nearly two years ago, Crowley had made it his personal mission to befriend Dean. The thin attempts at small talk annoyed him more than anything, and for every time Crowley tried to run, it only made his job that much more chaotic. While Dean found his sarcasm mildly entertaining and appreciated his humor from time to time, Crowley was still a prisoner, Dean was still a guard, and if the State of Georgia declared him a felon, Dean would uphold the law.

With newfound determination, he oriented himself north. It was difficult to track someone like Crowley, who knows the woods almost as well as he does, but Dean could sense he was getting closer. A change in direction wasn’t going to slow him down. Crowley couldn’t run forever.

Dean picked up his pace after wading across the river. He was high on the thrill of chase, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and not even the tree roots or his waterlogged shoes can slow him down.

He was only half a mile from the border when he caught another whiff of Crowley’s scent. It’s masked with dirt and sweat—clearly, walking through the river helped to conceal him—but Dean could tell he was only a hundred feet away.

He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes scanning the horizon for Crowley’s shadow, when he was suddenly knocked off balance from behind.

How could he be so arrogant? Of course Crowley would try to surprise him. The hit came before Dean expected it, and he tensed involuntarily. A sharp pain ran through his jaw. Shit, that was going to leave a mark in the morning.

A weight lifted from his chest. Dean shook the numbness from his face and oriented himself.

Crowley looked even worse than usual in poor lighting after running for miles. The standard gray prison uniform made him even harder to see properly in the dark, but Dean knew without looking that Crowley’s eyes were wide with mania.

He scrambled away while Dean was still down, but he wasn’t quite fast enough.

He only made it a few yards before Dean pulled himself to his feet, his muscles burning and heart pounding heavily. He would be more than happy to give Crowley a real fight any time, any day, and it would be over in about ten seconds.

Dean chased after him, arms outstretched in reach of a fistful of hair. He yanked as hard as he could, dragging Crowley back toward him. Dean heard something tear and hoped a few tufts were pulled out by the root.

Crowley yelped, struggling to find his balance. Just as he tried to get away again, Dean grabbed him by the nape of his neck, shoving him face-first in the dirt.

He bent to the ground, closer to Crowley’s ear. “Gotcha.”

Dean stood to his feet and circled around him, drawing his revolver from the holster on his hip. Crowley pushed himself up on his knees and spat at Dean’s feet. He grimaced, knowing he would have to scrub the blood off later. Crowley raised his hands to his head in surrender.

He might as well be waving a white flag, but it didn’t impress Dean. “I’m innocent. I swear,” he panted through heavy breath. Dean clicked the safety off the gun, his eyes narrowing. If he was so innocent, he wouldn’t be in a state penitentiary, let alone trying to run.

“And I’m Annie Oakley,” Dean growled, shoving the tip of the gun against him. Crowley gave a short gasp and trembled as the barrel tapped his back. Dean smiled at the thought of intimidating this son of a bitch. Even if he couldn’t technically do anything to him, he would make sure Crowley knew just how much trouble he had caused Dean.

He had always been a pain in the ass, and Dean wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to scare the shit out of him. “On your feet,” he ordered. Crowley scrambled to obey. “Move. Now.”

He shuffled forward in defeat, a gun on his back with Dean close behind. Relief washed over him as they stumbled to find their way through the woods. His reputation was still intact, even with the glaring bruise sure to stain his face in the morning. He wore his battle scars proudly, no matter how ragged they made him look. They were merely a sign that he was tougher than most people gave him credit for.

Bobby often boasted to the town that he could give Dean a hunt, and he would have any criminal caught before morning. Despite his prideful mistake that left him off-guard earlier, Dean was proud to say he upheld the adage tonight.

He had only a few minutes left of solitude and reflection before Crowley started to make small talk. The old devil always liked to bargain his way around certain chores or debate for an extra slice of pie from the kitchens, but Dean didn’t quite expect him to barter for his freedom.

“You know, omegas get more respect up North,” Crowley began. Dean had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at that opener. Surely he could come up with something more original than social equality as a reason to let him walk. “You could always come with me. Find a nice mate and settle down—”

He couldn’t blame the guy for trying, but Crowley should know by now that a prison sentence is non-negotiable. Still, a stroke a generosity told Dean he could at least humor him. “And be mocked for chumming it up with you?” he interrupted. “I’ll pass.”

Crowley wasn’t bothered by the insult. He just approached the deal from a different angle. “We could go west,” he suggested, shuffling his feet slowly forward. “They’re more progressive out there, and with the two of us, we’d get rich in no—” Dean shoved him ahead to keep him moving and zoned out after that.

He wasn’t really in the mood to play this game tonight, and the only thing he wanted was to crawl into his nice warm bed, knowing the prisoners were locked in the pen and his family was safe in the big house. “Shut up, Crowley,” he grumbled, pushing him further along the embankment. He stumbled and nearly tripped over a tree root, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to have sympathy for the guy.

Crowley didn’t try to speak again until they reached the river.

“Really?” He dipped his toes into the surface, testing the water like he hadn’t just waded through a few minutes before. Dean doubted his trousers had even dried yet.

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t have run this far.” He pushed Crowley in with just enough force to keep his balance and still make a big splash. “Keep movin’.”

After that, Dean decided to take the long way around inside of waging a war with the briars on top of the hill again. His pants were damaged enough for one night, and he didn’t want to get scratched up more than he already was. Dean’s sense of direction should be enough to get them back to the prison, and if not, he might get to see Crowley pass out from exhaustion or thirst by daylight.

Either way, it’s a win for Dean.

Still, he couldn’t be more relieved to see the two-story cabin on the distant horizon when they reach the clearing. The oil lamps in the windowsill beckon Dean closer with every flicker of their flame, leading him across the fields to the front veranda. A surge of pride welled up in him at the thought of everyone gathered in Bobby’s office, awaiting Dean’s victorious return.

What he hears upon entering the foyer, however, is not a heroic tale of Dean’s tracking skills, but the hushed murmurs of argument. His brow furrowed in curiosity.

“—but he escaped, sir—” Garth, who was usually bright and optimistic about even the worst of situations, was deadly serious. Not even Crowley’s attempt at escape could warrant such a grave voice.

Before Garth could finish delivering his news, Dean’s brother interrupted, “How did this hap—?”

“No one cares how it happened, Sam. We need to fix it,” Bobby commanded. As the warden of the prison, Bobby had a way of speaking that forced others to listen. He also had the rare ability to lead under pressure, which made even the toughest alphas bow their heads at the surliest old beta to walk the earth. “It’s our job to clean up this damned mess, and we’re gonna see it through,” he growled.

Crowley’s interest was piqued, his beady eyes squinting together attentively as they neared the office door, and Dean had to wonder if he knew something and wasn’t letting on. He chose that moment to round the corner, facing the solemn expressions head on.

The room was dimly lit, and the grim shadows flickering around them made Dean uneasy. As they realized he had returned with Crowley, they turned their attention from Bobby’s desk to the ragged prisoner in front of Dean. He could sense he had interrupted something important, but his pride got the better of him. “Got him,” he said with a grin.

The tension in Bobby’s face almost drained away. “Enjoy yourself, did you?” he asked sarcastically.

“What’s the point in working if you can’t have a little fun once in awhile?” The other men in the room were unusually quiet. Dean’s smile couldn’t help but falter. This wasn’t exactly the reaction he was hoping for. Benny should be clapping him on the back in congratulations, and Sam’s hearty laugh should be filling the room. There shouldn’t be such defeated looks after a successful hunt.

Bobby gestured toward the door. “Lock him up, boys,” he instructed the other men standing in his office.

“You got it, Bobby,” Garth said quietly, nodding at Sam to follow him. Crowley didn’t even protest as they each take an arm to secure him.

Dean waited for the door to click shut before he started to hound him. He tried to form a reasonable question, but all he can manage is, “Bobby, what the hell?”

He didn’t answer immediately, reaching under his desk to retrieve something seemingly important. Bobby hauled a bottle of scotch onto his desk, and two shot glasses quickly followed. A cold chill rushed through Dean’s body. “You might want to sit down for this,” Bobby suggested, twisting the lid off the bottle of alcohol. He hardly waited for Dean to take a seat before he started. “Well, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna say it... Lucifer is gone.” His stomach dropped at the thought of Lucifer Milton walking the streets freely. Dean wasn’t exactly sure how many life sentences he was given, but he was damn sure it was for murder.

“What? But I just caught Crowley,” he protested. Dean knew the two were completely unrelated situations, but catching one almost made up for letting the other slip through his fingertips. Besides, he couldn’t be in two places at once. “There’s never two big bads in the same night, Bobby,” Dean said in disbelief.

“There are now,” Bobby growled, filling both of their glasses with scotch. “Son of a bitch just up and disappeared from the cage. Somebody else had to be involved.”

“Dammit, there’s only one of me, Bobby,” Dean said, trying to keep from shouting and stamping the ground like a toddler. It was just so unfair. If he were prepared, he would have let Crowley get away in a heartbeat. Lucifer was far more dangerous than Crowley would ever be.

Dean hoped Bobby had already sent word to everyone in the area. Word spread like wildfire in this town, and with the telegraph, a few minutes notice could up security. Dean breathed deeply and tried to calm his nerves. Lucifer wouldn’t make a bold move on the night of his escape. It would be too obvious. He would bide his time and wait until the moment was right before he strikes. And when he does, Dean would be ready for him.

“I know. Don’t take it personal.” Dean took a shot, hoping the scotch would clear his head as alcohol usually does. Nope. Just the bitter taste of disappointment. Bobby paused, and he waited impatiently for him to continue. With a glare from Dean, he finally admitted what he had been holding in. “That’s why I’m hiring a new guard to help you out with everything around here.”

Dean stiffened immediately. “What?” he asked, slamming the shot glass on Bobby’s desk with a satisfying clink for emphasis.

He sighed, taking a drink from his own glass before he continued. “I’ve thought about it for a while, and you’re spread way too thin.” He must have noticed Dean’s distress because he quickly amended, “Look, I know you don’t exactly play well with others, but in case you haven’t noticed, Lucifer just escaped.”

The words cut through him like a knife, piercing his chest and eating away at what he held most dear. He was the best tracker anyone had ever seen, somehow respected and feared despite his omega status. This position meant everything to him. Delivering such a shocking blow right after telling him he failed to do his job was like punching Dean in the gut. Leave it to Bobby to try and sugar coat the truth after bluntly blurting it out. “You can’t be everywhere at once, Dean,” he said, his voice softer now as he tried to console him. “It doesn’t matter how good you are. We need help, and you know it.”

Dean drew in a steadying breath. “Okay.” He shook his head. “So who’s this new guy you’re bringing in?”

Bobby shuffled some papers around on his desk and produced a file that he handed to Dean. He took the folder in his hands and turned to the first page where he saw a grainy photograph of a man neatly clipped to the other papers. Dean couldn’t tell much from the image, so his eyes shifted to the text beneath it. Bobby gave him a few moments to skim the pages and process as he read.

“Castiel Novak,” Bobby said, nodding at the paper. “He’s from Illinois.”

Dean flipped the folder shut and snapped, “Great. A damn Yankee. That’s exactly what I need.” Bobby stayed silent, watching as Dean came to the same conclusion he had already decided on hours ago.

Dean caught his reflection in the shot glass. Everything about his face screamed exhaustion from the fresh red mark along his cheekbone to the dirty blonde stubble. Even his eyes were glassy and red-rimmed from a lack of sleep. As much as he hated to acknowledge how impossibly overwhelmed he was after tonight, Dean was cornered. He couldn’t continue working a job like this on his own with Lucifer walking. What about the people in town? Dean couldn’t live with himself if they lost trust in him. And if Bobby insisted on hiring a new guy, he had no choice but to admit it. He needed help if he was going to bring Lucifer to justice.

Before he could decide against it, Dean heard himself agree. “Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of the cornucopia of scents, one began to stand out in the crowd. Dean perked up in surprise at the distinctly sweet smell. It wasn’t fruity like Jo, but the scent was warm and dark, washing over him like a hot bath. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly, or even where it was coming from, but Dean knew this scent was special. The aroma made its way through the crowd, stripping away the others that cluttered Dean’s senses. Confusion fell away, his mind unclouding, as the faint scent of sweetness became stronger.

October 18

The fields were ruthless.

The blistering Georgia sun beat down on dozens of men as the sweltering heat made Dean’s lungs heave for air with each breath. The heat was a cruel mistress on its own, but with the humidity and hours of physical labor, it was hell on earth.

Beads of sweat collected on Dean’s forehead and ran down his face in streaks. He ran his hand along his forehead to wipe the excess before it could reach his brow. There was nothing like the sting of sweat his eyes to make a rough day worse.

The ache in his muscles was nothing compared to that of the prisoners. They were doing the actual work. Dean was merely charged with overseeing them for the day, along with Benny who was pacing the other end of the perimeter nearly one hundred feet away. Bobby ordered maximum security in the wake of Lucifer’s escape, and after the skirmish a few nights ago with Crowley, Dean couldn’t blame him for the paranoia.

Guarding the prisoners wasn’t a bad job if you knew how to pass the time. Their small talk may be insufferable at times, but Dean had become an expert in motivating them. He found the most powerful incentive to cooperate was not a whip, as he expected, but the deprivation of water. He would never withhold drink long enough to force heat exhaustion. Just enough to focus on work instead of a conversation.

Supper time couldn’t come fast enough for Dean, who thought he might melt if he stayed another hour out here in the blazing sun. At the sound of the bell and Benny’s bellowing voice to clear the fields, Dean watched as dozens of prisoners immediately dropped what they were doing and turned their attention to marching back to the compound. Their system was so clean and efficient, they were almost in cadence. Every one of them knew the punishment that awaited them if they fell out of step or caused trouble.

Dean couldn’t be prouder of his work. The intimidation. The fear. Sometimes he wondered if the hard ass reputation was too much. If perhaps he was too difficult and larger than life. But then he quickly remembered how little respect most omegas got, and deemed the drill sergeant persona worthy of appearances.

Whatever gets the job done.

Once Benny had finished wrangling them all into the pen, he gave Dean the go ahead to leave and wash up for mealtime. Supper would be served around sundown, and Dean couldn’t wait to get his hands on some of Jody’s pecan pie. She was a jack-of-all-trades around the prison, Bobby’s second-in-command, and an expert in all things medical, agricultural, and legal, but Dean was especially fond of her baking skills, put to use in the prison’s kitchen. The generic branded stuff in packets and cans was for the prisoners, but none the staff could never resist a nice hot meal from the infamous Jody Mills.

Dean almost collapsed upon reaching the big house, stopping by the well for a much-needed drink of water. The taste cooled him down for a moment, but he needed rest more than anything else. His legs moved automatically, carrying him up the hill and into the big house where he could finally sit down and find solace.

The inside wasn’t much better than the humidity of the fields, but the stone walls made the temperature just a bit more bearable. Dean leaned against the cool stones and took a deep breath. He wasn’t expecting the stench of soured fruit to fill his lungs. He straightened immediately, heaving himself from the comfort of the wall to get his bearings.

Something was off. His intuition told him there wasn’t a threat, but Dean couldn’t help but pick up the poker from the fireplace for a little insurance.

The scent became sweeter as he moved deeper into the house, wafting thinly through the air. Dean turned his nose upward to investigate. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place where he had smelled it before. That must mean he hadn’t met it’s owner in a long, long time. He gripped the poker tightly in his hands, and as he rounded the corner, he was greeted by a loud shriek. “Dean?”

Dean lowered his weapon to get a better look at the young woman in front of him. Her soft blonde hair was pulled tightly on top of her head, and the dress she wore was nothing like the girl he once knew. “Joanna Beth?” No wonder it took him a few moments to recognize her. That sweet smell should have given away her identity, but Jo had matured quite a bit since they last saw one another as teenagers. “As I live and breathe. I thought I smelled a Georgia peach.”

She let out a deep growl, but as her scent changed to become fresher and more defined, he knew it was all in good spirits. Dean dropped the poker onto the wooden floors. He doubted she could even throw a punch in that corset anymore.

“It’s good to see you again, Dean,” she said, her posture relaxing. Her voice was so weak, Dean began to worry her dress was actually suffocating her.

“You too,” he replied softly. She buried herself in his warm hug. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t the dress. Now Dean was certain something was wrong. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and rested his chin on top of her head. “How have you been?”

“Okay, I guess,” came the muffled reply.

Dean pulled away long enough to speak clearly. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you even doing here?”

“It’s a long story,” she said, brushing a few wisps of hair behind her ears and trying to sober her expression. “It’s just good to be back. Feels like a homecoming.”

He leaned back into Jo’s embrace once again, surrounding her in the most comforting omega scents he could muster. Drying sweat mixed with his usual leather couldn’t be that great, but she appeared to be calming, so Dean took that as a good sign. He hadn’t seen her in years, but if there was one thing he remembered about Jo, she was strong. She was an alpha, after all. His gut instinct was right. Something was off about this visit, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was. “Where’s Ellen?” Dean asked, running a reassuring hand along her shoulder as he pulled away.

“Upstairs. With Bobby,” she replied with a weak smile. Her scent was beginning to change again, and Dean could tell the sweetness was just a facade now. “She’s going to see if we can stay here for a couple of weeks.”

“Well…” Dean was careful in choosing his next words. “If I know Bobby, you’re both welcome here any time. You’re family.” That title wasn’t something he took lightly. The Harvelles had been there for him when his parents died, along with Bobby and a few other family friends. Dean could never repay them for all they had done, but he dedicated his life to civil service in the hope that he could save others from what he went through. Even though Dean wasn’t strictly related to most of them, he prided himself on his loyalty to the bonds of family.

The rickety wooden stairs creaked behind him, and Dean whirled around just in time to see Bobby and Ellen coming down to greet them. The smell of fresh pine was so familiar, Dean could recall it from memory anywhere, but even at this distance, Ellen’s scent of aged rum took a few moments to adjust to. It was powerful, which was probably a result of emotional distress, but something Dean respected all the same.

“Dean,” Bobby said as he neared the first floor landing. “Just the person I was looking for. Ellen and Jo are going to be staying with us for a little while.” Dean nodded in affirmation, smiling in Jo’s direction as if to say he told her so. Still, it was impossible to miss the unspoken—indefinitely—at the end of his sentence. Dean wanted to ask what happened, but he thought now might not be an appropriate time for that. Just as he made a mental note to ask Sam later, Bobby changed the subject to something Dean was much less thrilled about. “It seems we will be playing host to another guest tonight as well,” he said, with a nod in Dean’s direction. “Mister Novak is set to arrive at the train station this evening.”

Dean sighed deeply and tried to keep his facial expressions neutral. It was almost suppertime, and Bobby was sending him on some milk run to fetch his replacement—sorry, assistant. “And you want me to…?” he trailed off, hoping Bobby would understand and save him the embarrassment of admitting his situation to Ellen and Jo.

“I do,” was all he said in response. Dean knew very well that his job included running errands like this, but it was still a slap in the face to escort your replacement through the front door, carrying his bags like a servant.

“But it’s almost supper,” Dean protested, Both women wore intrigued expressions, but neither of them made an attempt to explain themselves. It might be rude to ignore one’s guests, but Dean would rather they not know about this situation for a while. Besides, if he went into town now, the pecan pie Dean had been looking forward to all day would be gone by the time he returned. He sighed in exasperation. “You know I hate trains,” Dean said in exasperation. “Next thing you know, people are gonna be flyin’ up in the sky. It’s not natural! Bobby—”

Technology made him—well, uncomfortable to say the least. If it could replace a human, Dean didn’t trust it, despite anything anyone else could tell him. The most complex piece of machinery he could operate was an oven, and as far as he was concerned, pie was the greatest invention of man in the first place. Even if he could ignore the train itself, the station was always packed with people, milling around with shifting scents, mixing together to make Dean’s head spin. Bobby knew how much large crowds could bother him, but he was insistent that Dean be the one to go.

“Don’t Bobby me, boy,” he ordered, and Dean knew this was one argument he couldn’t win. “You’re gonna pick up your new colleague like a gentleman. We’ll save you a plate. You can eat when your work is done.” The scent of pine softened minutely, but Dean knew better than to expect Bobby to go back on his word. “I know you have issues with groups, or whatever. Take Benny if you want. Maybe having someone there will help you focus.”

Concentrating was difficult in a crowd full of mingling scents, especially an hour and a half later when Dean would have been eating. His mood soured the closer he got to the station and the emptier his stomach became. This Novak guy was an inconvenience, no matter how much Dean knew deep down they needed him.

As soon as the carriage arrived in town, Dean was out and moving around. He couldn’t stand being cooped up in hot stagnant air any longer than he had to, and the steam rising over the treetops told him the train would be here any minute. Benny knew better than to disrupt him when he was in one of his funks, so he let him be when Dean said, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be in and out. Just water the horses or something, and wait out here.”

He raised his hands in surrender, and set to work. Benny knew his only purpose on this mission was to drive the carriage and provide companionship where it was needed. If Dean was so stubborn about this new guy and decided he didn’t want Benny’s company, that was up to him.

Dean, on the other hand, was grateful for his understanding. Most people would ignore his advice and follow him in anyway, but Benny had been around him long enough to know he liked to give instructions and follow through on them. It made him feel competent in ways that most omegas his age never got to be.

Still, as he entered the train station and realized the vast number of people here, Dean began to regret leaving Benny. There were only a few carriages and wagons sitting outside, misleading Dean to believe only a few people would be waiting inside. The air was thick with dozens of heavy scents, and even the breeze blowing in from the open port side of the station didn’t soften the blow to Dean’s senses.

The dull noise of chatter echoed through his ears and into his skull. His head ached as if he had a cold, but no amount of rubbing his temples would ease the pain. Dean’s nose twitched, unable to distinguish between the dozens of scents. He hated large crowds of people.

It was as if someone took a rainbow of colors and mixed them together to get a murky brown. Dean tried to inhale lightly, but shallow breathing didn’t work well when he was already panicking. His eyes scanned the crowd frantically for a familiar face, for Benny, for the new guy who wouldn’t even recognize him. Anyone who could he could use to ground himself.

The train that was moving into the station when Dean arrived was now releasing steam and opening up the cabins. As more and more people flooded the station, Dean lost concentration altogether, his sense of smell almost entirely gone. It reminded him of the day he fired his first gun, his ears still ringing minutes after a loud crack. He had since grown used to the sensation, but Dean had to wonder if this was what a normal person’s nose was like every day. How boring it must be.

Fortunately, he could still hear, and Dean thought someone was calling his name from somewhere in the distance. Benny. He expected he wouldn’t wait by the carriage, but Dean honestly figured he would be a bit more patient. Benny’s scent was faint, hard to place in the ocean of people, but the mellow spice was familiar. It gave Dean something to concentrate on instead of the chaos in the station, but it wouldn’t hold his attention for long.

Of the cornucopia of scents, one began to stand out in the crowd. Dean perked up in surprise at the distinctly sweet smell. It wasn’t fruity like Jo, but the scent was warm and dark, washing over him like a hot bath. He couldn’t tell what it was exactly, or even where it was coming from, but Dean knew this scent was special. The aroma made its way through the crowd, stripping away the others that cluttered Dean’s senses. Confusion fell away, his mind unclouding, as the faint scent of sweetness became stronger.

Without thinking, Dean stood straighter and pushed back his hair nervously, biting his lip in anticipation. As the cloud of softness grew closer, he even felt his muscles flex. It was as if his body was acting independently from his mind. He couldn’t explain what was happening.

Benny glanced his direction, his brow raised in curiosity. Dean wished he had an answer. Crowds had drawn many reactions from him before, but none of them had ever made him feel like this. Dean only hoped he didn’t start leaking slick in public. He hadn’t had a reaction he couldn’t control since he first presented nearly a dozen years ago.

Hundreds of nameless faces and scents swirl around him in a haze, but Dean couldn’t figure out what or who he was reacting to. He took a few shallow breaths, each of them more ragged than the last. He needed air. No, Dean needed more of that scent. That beautiful, sweet scent with an owner he had never met before.

Before his biology could embarrass him even further, two sturdy hands gripped his shoulders like a vice. Dean tensed in surprise, but Benny’s comforting scent forced him to focus again. His vision swam, and he blinked back tears as his headache started to recede.

“You alright, brother?” Benny always had a natural protective instinct, and Dean was suddenly grateful for his ability to calm.

He gave a short nod.

It was only a matter of moments before the scent hit him again, and this time, Benny had to physically restrain him from rudely sniffing down every single person in the train station until he found who it belonged to.

As Dean fought against him, he heard someone approach from behind. “Excuse me,” a gravelly voice said. Without even looking at him, Dean could tell the man was quiet and a little unsure of himself, but more importantly, he was distracting Dean from figuring out where that smell was coming from. He just needed a few minutes, and he would— “Are you Mister Winchester?” the man asked, interrupting Dean’s thoughts.

His blood ran cold in sudden embarrassment. He stopped wrestling with Benny and scanning the crowd to turn and face his new colleague. With one breath, Dean was done for. It was him.

Castiel Novak had the most beautiful scent of any alpha he’d ever met.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have to disagree. Mister Singer likened you to a bloodhound in his letters,” he said earnestly. Great, so Bobby had talked about him to a stranger. To a gorgeous stranger who might be taking over his job in a few weeks. That’s fan-fucking-tastic. That’s exactly what he needs right now. “Your acute senses are useful, but they must come at a cost. Is my scent bothering you?” he asked, turning up the collar on his trench coat.

October 18

Dean’s heart pounded furiously against his chest, and he was pretty sure he had been standing there for a solid thirty seconds longer than was socially acceptable. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating, but Dean couldn’t help but stare at the man’s face in wonder for a few heartbeats too long.

It’s only when the man’s expression twisted in confusion that Dean remembered he had to actually answer Castiel’s question. “That’s me!” he said quickly, releasing his grasp on Benny’s collar to extend his hand.

Relief washed over his face, and Dean had to say, the faded photograph in Bobby’s file didn’t do Castiel’s profile justice. Of course, Dean may be biased with a scent like that. This may not be the first time Dean had a strong reaction to someone’s scent, but the last time wasn’t nearly as pleasant an experience. He met Sam’s ex-fiancee, Ruby, about a year ago and nearly passed out at the overpowering stench. He had no clue how Sam stood it for so long. To this day, Sam claimed she smelled like flowers to him, but for all Dean knew, it could have been belladonna.

Castiel shuffled his bag and suitcase to his left arm and reached out to give a welcoming handshake. “Sorry,” Dean said, their hands brushing for a moment. His were far more calloused than Castiel, but what he lacked in roughness he made up for in strength. Despite Dean’s reservations about working with someone new, he had a strange notion that Castiel could be trusted. His mother always used to say that a firm handshake made a good first impression.

Benny came closer, turning his face away from Castiel just enough for a little privacy. “Dean, you okay?” he asked in a low voice.

“Fine,” Dean replied, and in hindsight, maybe he had spoken too quickly. “Yeah. Just smelled something weird,” he said, brushing over the whole incident as if it had never happened.

Benny nodded as Dean extended his arm in an offer to carry Castiel’s bags. No use in making their guest carry his own bags. Besides, Dean was feeling a bit more generous than before towards this handsome stranger. “Castiel, this is my friend, Benjamin Lafitte,” he said, plainly ignoring Benny’s scowl at the use of his full name. “We’re here to escort you back to Bobby—I mean, Mister Singer’s land.”

“Follow me, Mister Novak,” Benny said politely, leading them to the buggy awaiting them outside.

As Benny busied himself with untying the horses and preparing for the drive ahead, Dean made quick work of stowing Castiel’s belongings beneath the seat. Once they were settled, Dean started to notice just how stifling the heat was inside the carriage, tugging at his collar uncomfortably. He wanted to unbutton the top part of his shirt, but after the close call back in the train station, Dean figured he could at least try to keep his clothes on for the ride home. Besides, something about Castiel’s well put together outfit told Dean he should hold off on that idea. The man was wearing a tan trenchcoat in eighty degree weather. How was he not melting?

Even with the insufferable heat, Dean was giddy to be inside the muggy carriage if it meant Castiel’s earthy scent would be swirling around in here with him. Since their first encounter, Dean had started to become used to the scent, and he wasn’t reacting quite as strongly to it. He was taken by surprise, that was all. It didn’t mean he couldn’t suppress the urge to climb onto his lap and bury his nose in Castiel’s neck. He breathed heavily to get more of that woody nectar deeper into his memory. Dean was floating on a cloud of sweetness until—

“If you’ll excuse my bluntness, Mister Winchester, you haven’t stopped scenting me since we left the train station,” Castiel said. Dean froze where he was mid-breath. Shit. How long had they been riding? They couldn’t be that far from the prison now.

He hadn’t even thought about how uneasy he might be making his new guest. Though Dean was taken aback by his straightforward nature, he took it as a good sign that Castiel wasn’t angered by his inappropriate behavior. In fact, he appeared to be retreating into himself after being so direct. He could respect the honesty, but he had to admit Castiel’s observations made him a little uncomfortable after what happened back at the train station.

Dean chuckled and hid behind an uneasy smile. “Well you call ‘em like you see ‘em, huh?” Castiel nodded sheepishly as if he was about to apologize for being so forward. He waved his hand in dismissal. “Don’t be sorry. I have a sharp sense of smell. It’s nothing special.”

“I have to disagree. Mister Singer likened you to a bloodhound in his letters,” he said earnestly. Great, so Bobby had talked about him to a stranger. To a gorgeous stranger who might be taking over his job in a few weeks. That’s fan-fucking-tastic. That’s exactly what he needs right now. “Your acute senses are useful, but they must come at a cost. Is my scent bothering you?” he asked, turning up the collar on his trenchcoat.

“No!” Dean almost shouted. Not bothering, necessarily. Just making Dean want to latch onto him and never let go. Just making him want to rip open the buttons on that pristine, white-collared shirt and work him over. But never bothering. “I mean, you’ve done nothing wrong. I just have a hard time ignoring scents.” Sure, that explained his weird behavior well enough. Besides, it was mostly true. Dean was very sensitive to smell. He just happened to leave out the part that he was incredibly attracted to Castiel’s scent long before he ever laid eyes on the guy.

Castiel nodded as he turned his collar back down, his gaze drifting to the window. Dean got the impression he would be doing most of the legwork for their conversations. He couldn’t say he was exactly fond of chatting about the weather, but this could be his chance to get a few answers about why Castiel was chosen, maybe find out why Bobby wanted him so bad. “If you don’t mind my asking, what is it exactly?” he asked before his mind could catch up to his mouth. Great, Dean. That’s an excellent conversation starter. “It’s thick and sweet, but there’s… something else to it.”

Castiel didn’t seem bothered by his completely mindless question, or the blatant invasion of privacy. “Honey,” he replied, refusing to look at Dean directly in the eye. “Mixed with something else that seems to remind people of thunderstorms. That’s just what I’m told. Can’t exactly scent myself.”

He chortled uncomfortably, and Dean had to wonder what he sounds like when laughs. Not just a self-conscious one, but a healthy, full laugh that leaves you feeling really happy inside. “Kind of makes sense though. I was a beekeeper before—” Castiel stopped himself, and Dean could tell that before was a can of worms for another day. “Before,” Castiel said finally.

Dean hummed in reply. “Well, it’s nice, whatever it is,” he said, twisting his face into a scowl. “I’m stuck with gunpowder and leather. Doesn’t seem as sweet. Fitting for me, I guess. I’m told I can be prickly.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Castiel said with a glance out the window. “It smells pleasant to me.” Dean narrowed his eyes sharply, heat rising to his cheeks as he fought down pride and embarrassment. Most other people didn’t intentionally scent others the way Dean did unless they were very afraid or aroused.

For Castiel to even notice his scent, he must have evoked some kind of intense emotion. Dean didn’t quite know what to make of that observation, so he remained silent. In fact, they both stayed quiet for the remainder of their journey home. It was oddly companionable, something Dean appreciated but was a stranger to all the same.

They stopped momentarily for Benny to open the gate to the prison, but as soon as they arrived, Dean helped Castiel out of the carriage. Benny stood by the door, holding it open as they carried Castiel’s luggage outside. “Dean, can I speak with you?” Benny asked, his voice heavy with concern.

He nodded, dismissing Castiel with a wave to get settled in the big house without him. Whatever Benny had to say probably wouldn’t be appropriate within earshot of polite company. Benny’s smile faded as soon as Castiel was a safe distance away, rounding on Dean with an incredulous glare. “What the hell was that back at the station?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying his best to act confused. Dean knew playing dumb wouldn’t work with Benny, but it was worth a shot.

He scowled at Dean. “You almost passed out on me,” Benny said seriously. He was concerned for him, and Dean could begrudge him for wanting to make sure his friend was okay. “And then you jus’ perked up an’ tried to scent ever’one. I had ta hold you back. Ring a bell?” Dean stared at his feet, suddenly taking an interest in the grass around him. Benny sighed in frustration, but his voice was softer when he spoke next. “Dean, I’m jus’ worried. That’s not like you.”

“I know, Benny,” Dean said, nodding as he looked up to meet Benny’s concerned gaze. “I know. There were just a lot of people there, and my nose got away from me. It’s nothing to worry about.” And really, it wasn’t. Nothing was wrong with him, there was just a small problem with who the new hired help was.

Not that he could tell Benny that. It would get back to Bobby or spread through the prison. Then what would happen to his reputation? Nobody would fear him if they realized Dean had been such an embarrassment the second he was confronted by an alpha who wasn’t related to him.

“Okay, brother,” Benny replied, placing his hand on Dean’s shoulder protectively. “Just go inside, and get some food. I’ll be in soon.”

Dean nodded and walked up the stone steps into the house. He was greeted by Castiel on the landing in front of the steps, looking a little lost and confused about where to go or what to do. Dean was more than happy to show him to the dining room the staff regularly used. He was also grateful, and a little surprised, to see Jody had put the leftovers on the table for them to eat when they returned.

Supper, as Dean predicted, did not taste as marvelous as it would have if it were fresh. Cold chicken and mashed potatoes wasn’t a bad meal, but part of the dining experience was eating together, as a family. When the whole gang was together, they filled the dining room table. Not that he was in bad company, but it was a little lonely with just Castiel and Benny on the bench across from him.

As Dean looked up from his plate, he realized Castiel had already finished his helping and was staring expectantly between Benny and Dean for further instructions. The way he inhaled his meal, he wasn’t entirely sure Castiel hadn’t been a convict in the past. He tried to push that thought out of his head. He was already trying to come up with reasons to push Castiel away, and his brain was supplying him with the most ridiculous one it could come up with. He probably just had a long day, or maybe he grew up with siblings. There, that wasn’t such a stretch.

Still, something about the other man was making his mouth water in a way that had nothing to do with the food in front of him. Dean looked down at his plate in embarrassment. Honestly, he couldn’t control what was happening to his body, but he wanted more than anything to just think normally. Just as Dean had turned back to his food, Castiel spoke. “You know, I wasn’t entirely sure the railroad would come down this far.”

Dean set his fork down gingerly on his plate, grateful for a conversation to distract him from everything else. He knew Castiel was from Illinois, and that had to be pretty far up North. But did he honestly think they were so uncivilized and disconnected from the rest of the world that they didn’t have iron? “Yeah, why’s that?” he asked.

His small smile faltered as he quickly knew he had misjudged the depth of this conversation. Castiel had only meant to make small talk, not insult Dean’s culture. Surely he was aware of General Sherman and his march to the sea only a few months ago. “No reason,” Castiel said with a shrug. “I just thought perhaps you were given one too many neckties for the railroad to be effective.”

Dean sobered his expression and picked up his silverware once again. “I’m sorry for the misconception,” he said in earnest, spearing a piece of chicken with the prongs of his fork. “We seemed to be far enough south to have escaped the horrors of the war. We’re actually about twenty miles from the state line.”

Castiel nodded with nothing but a small, “Oh,” as Dean devoured the rest of his food. After the formalities of small talk and finishing their meal, Benny offered to show Castiel to his quarters for the night. Dean, who wanted to crawl in bed since about four o’clock this afternoon and was thoroughly embarrassed by the events of the day, eagerly agreed to leave them alone for the night while their guest settled in.

As Dean tread the hard-packed dirt from the big house to the cabin he and his brother shared at the edge of the woods, he wondered if this new guy would stick around once they caught Lucifer. He wouldn’t mind getting to know Castiel outside of his profession. In fact, Dean thought it infinitely unfair that they had to meet like this. He didn’t exactly know what he was expecting when he showed up at the train station this evening, but Castiel was not it.

For only knowing the guy about three hours, Dean was ready to mount him and get his brains fucked out. He knew exactly how crazy it sounded, but his mind couldn’t stop wondering what Castiel would sound like on the edge of an orgasm, his knot ready to swell inside of Dean. He took a deep breath of the cool autumn air, the smell of nature clearing his thoughts and keeping him from getting too excited. How the hell was Dean going to work with him?

Really, he didn’t even want to work with him. All Dean wanted was to keep his job and maybe some self-respect. Just thinking about Castiel outside of their professional context, Dean could sense his dignity slipping away. As much as he liked him, he knew nothing could happen. Castiel was, more or less, his competition. Thinking of him as anything more than a colleague was off limits now.

Dean sighed deeply, schooling his features before opening the cabin door. With one breath upon entering, Dean caught a whiff of the overpowering stench of sex. Not just the alpha pheromones of sadness Dean dutifully ignored when Sam washed the sheets every time he went through a rut. This was a wall-slamming, neck-biting, mating kind of smell.

If his own brother brought someone home and had sex on his bed just because it was closest to the door, so help him, Dean would kick his ass. He hesitantly peered around the room, afraid of what he might see.

He shut the front door and examined the room to find only Sam sitting at his desk on the opposite side of the room, busy with his ink and quill. The fire in the grate was dwindling, and Dean could tell he had been here since at least sundown. No one made a fire when it was still warm outside. Dean was a bit suspicious at the formal attire he was wearing, but to be perfectly honest after what he smelled coming through the door, he was grateful Sam had on clothes at all.

He eyed Sam with a wary glance, searching up and down for anything out of the ordinary. Dean’s nose twitched, and the fresh scent of cotton flooded his senses. Unless Sam had been doing laundry all day or overseeing the gin, Dean couldn’t explain why linen was overtaking his usual maple syrup scent. “You smell weird,” he said pointedly, flopping down on the bed.

Sam, utterly nonplussed by his rudeness, continued to write. “Thanks,” he said, his feather quill jerking erratically with the flourish of his signature. “Hello to you, too.”

“No, I mean… fresh weird. Not you.” That wasn’t the best way to describe what he was smelling, but it would have to do for now. Something was different about Sam that his mind didn’t quite have the details to explain. But with the pheromones loading this place, Dean had to guess it was a girl.

“You know they have this crazy thing called indoor plumbing now,” Sam replied sarcastically, setting his quill down to face Dean. “Showering? You should try it sometime.”

Dean rolled his eyes. It was just like Sammy to deflect something like this, especially if there was any weight to it. “Hilarious. I don’t know what’s going on, but my nose will figure it out for me.” He inhaled dramatically in Sam’s direction for emphasis.

“Nothing’s going on!” he insisted, but from the catch in his voice, Dean knew he was covering something.

“Sure.” He always had a way of figuring out when Sam was hiding something. It’s why he always got the extra cookie. For now, he would settle for changing the subject and wear him down a little first. “So why are you dressed so fancy? We expecting company or something?”

Sam relaxed at the change of subject, sinking into his chair. “We’ve been invited to a harvest festival in town,” he said, smoothing his hair behind his ears. “I’m going to formally accept on behalf of the prison staff.”

“College boy thinks he’s so smart,” Dean remarked with a smirk. Sam scowled and began to collect his papers from the desk. “You know the harvest was two weeks ago, right?” he asked before Sam could leave.

“It’s tradition, Dean,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “And you’ll have to do better than a flannel shirt for this one.” Dean made a face the thought of wearing anything formal and constricting. “Oh, come on, you have nice clothes. Besides, you can invite that new guy—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Dean interrupted with a raise of his hand. “One, I am only spending time with him because Bobby hired him to work with me.” Sam rubbed his eyes in frustration. His brother had been grumbling about getting someone new for days. The least he could do was put a positive spin on the situation. “And B,” Dean continued, “under no circumstances will I be inviting my replacement to a party.”

Sam sighed hopelessly and rolled his eyes, bunching the official-looking papers in his hands into a roll. It seemed that Dean couldn’t be optimistic to save his life. “Dean, he’s not your replacement,” Sam said in exasperation.

“He’s as good as,” he retorted bitterly. It didn’t make a damn how good he smelled or how attractive and polite he was or how much better he was at this job than Dean. Castiel was the new blood, and Dean had to compete.

“Okay. Whatever,” Sam said in a clipped voice, adjusting his cufflinks and starting for the door. “Just read the invitation. I’ll see you in the morning.”

All Dean could manage was a mumbled, “Mhmm,” as Sam walked out of the door. He heaved a sigh of relief, but Dean knew he couldn’t relax until he read the invitation for himself. He mustered enough energy to get up and look at Sam’s desk. After a few moments of prowling through his papers, Dean found the document he was looking for.

_To whom it may concern,_

_The employees of Singer Farm are cordially invited to attend the annual harvest festival at the Leahy Family Residence. The festival will be held on the fifteenth of November from five o’clock until eight. There will be a meal and refreshments provided._

_Please note that while we are open to the community and there is no guest list, we will monitor visitors upon arrival to ensure no escaped convicts are in attendance. We appreciate your understanding of this matter and hope you are looking forward to the event._

_We ask that you accept or decline this invitation by the end of the week to prepare for the number of guests in advance. If you have any other questions about the festival, please contact me at my family’s residence._

_Sincerely,  
Eileen Leahy_

As Dean reached the bottom of the invitation, the neatly inscribed cursive faded into a scrawled signature.

Eileen Leahy.

He recognized that name. Eileen. She was the deaf girl he and Sam used to play with as kids. She would be about their age now, give or take a few years, and Dean had a sneaking suspicion that accepting the invitation was just an excuse to go see her. That might explain the scent and Sam’s weird behavior, and it would certainly shed a light on the fact that this was the first invitation they had received to attend the harvest festival in years.

“I’ll be damned,” he whispered under his breath as he put the pieces together. Dean let the invitation fall onto the desk with a satisfying flop. “Sammy, you sly dog.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Dean expected would intimidate him only seemed to make Castiel more self-assured. “I can take care of myself, Dean,” he insisted, refusing to be the first to break their intense eye contact.
> 
> “Prove it,” Dean said through gritted teeth, venom dripping from his words. In that moment, he was only thinking about being right, about doing penance for what happened the night of Lucifer’s escape, and above all, about Castiel’s safety. Dean had no earthly idea how much he was about to regret challenging the alpha in front of him.

October 19

The shed doors creaked with rust as Dean pulled them open enough to step inside the humid building. Castiel hesitantly followed him inside to look around at the collection, keeping his hands firmly at his sides. The walls were lined with firearms from the last few decades, and barrels of gunpowder were neatly stacked on top of each other.

Dean could sense his discomfort, but that didn’t stop him from showing off his pride and joy. In the last few years, he had practically arranged this collection, taking all of Bobby’s older models and organizing them by size, age, and accuracy. The more recent pistols that the guards preferred to use were close to the front with corresponding ammunition beneath each rack. Every member of the prison staff had a key to the building, and Dean took great pride in maintaining every weapon in this room. He picked up his own Colt revolver and twisted the cylinder to examine the inside.

Six bullets arranged in a perfect circle.

He hadn’t even handled this gun since the night Crowley tried to escape. Between being preoccupied with work and wallowing in self-pity and alcohol, Dean hadn’t had time to properly shoot. Now with Castiel here, this was the perfect opportunity to not only get in some needed practice but to size up his competition as well.

“What do you know about guns?” Dean asked, clicking the cylinder back in place. He grinned as he stared down the barrel, raising it just enough to inspect the sight.

Dean lowered the Colt and began to search for his holster as Castiel inched away from the barrel he stood next to. When he was satisfied that he was a safe distance away, Castiel began to speak. “They were pioneered by the Chinese with the invention of gunpowder,” he started, squinting at the wall of weapons, “and they have evolved through time and innovation of man to become smaller and more accurate. The current models were used during the most recent war and caused massive casualties for both the Union and Confederate armies, and—”

“You know how to shoot one?” he interrupted. Dean grabbed the leather holster, attaching it to his hip and shoving the Colt inside.

It was difficult to judge his features in the dim lighting, but the slight change in his scent gave him away. “I am woefully inexperienced with firearms,” Castiel said, his voice flat. Dean sighed in both exasperation and relief. He should’ve seen this one coming a mile away. Still, he was a little sympathetic. Everybody deserved a shot at learning how to survive, and Dean was willing and ready to teach him everything he knows. If Castiel was going to be of any use to him, he would have to know how to hold his own.

The apology didn’t even make it to Castiel’s lips before Dean reassured him against his better judgement. “It’s okay. We’ll get there,” he said with a rough clap to his shoulder. Castiel glanced down to find Dean’s hand still awkwardly resting on his arm. Dean jerked away almost immediately, clearing away the lump in his throat. He hadn’t stopped thinking about Castiel since he first met him, and Dean really wasn’t sure what to do other than set his jaw and pretend he didn’t want to explore every crevice of Castiel’s body. “Um… how about self defense?” he tried. Before the sentence was even out of his mouth, Dean knew that was a stupid question. “You’re an alpha. Reasonably in shape. Should come natural. Ever done any tracking?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion, and despite the control Dean had diligently perfected over the last several days, even he couldn’t keep a smile from stretching across his face. “I was a beekeeper,” he said, his eyebrows still furrowed together. “I have no tracking experience.”

Of course, that was a logical conclusion to draw from what he had gathered about Castiel so far, but Dean had to ask just to be sure. Still, it was hard to think of such a mild-mannered alpha as an enemy. It was even harder to explain why Bobby thought he would be a good fit for the prison, let alone a help to Dean without any experience. What the hell was Bobby thinking when he let him in?

Castiel’s gaze dropped to the ground of the shed, and Dean realized he must have said that out loud. And it came out a lot harsher than he intended it to if Castiel fell completely silent. “Sorry,” Dean amended as quickly as he could, making a conscious effort to keep his voice calm and reasonable. “It’s just… we’re always working under pressure here. Our job is to keep these criminals in check on a daily basis.”

He nodded in understanding as Dean led him back outside the shed. The key twisted to the left, and he tried the door to make sure it was locked. When he was satisfied with his work, Dean turned to Castiel and heaved a sigh. He owed him an explanation for his rudeness, and deferring to the stress of the job was really just avoiding the real reasons he’d been so pent up.

“After Lucifer escaped,” he began, closing his eyes for a few seconds so he didn’t have to look at Castiel as he spoke. “I feel like I have to play the defensive, too, like I’m responsible for everyone’s safety. That’s why I thought you were here, to help me out with that.”

He searched Castiel’s gaze for an explanation, but he was all but unreadable. His brow furrowed in sincerity, his features still sober. “I contacted Mister Singer through a mutual friend before I ever heard of the escape,” Castiel said. Dean did a double take at that. He hadn’t expected anyone to show interest in a town that wasn’t even on the map, especially before the scandal of an escape rocked the town. Castiel took a nervous breath before he continued, “He said you needed help long before that man got away. I simply needed a career change and offered my assistance.”

Dean caught a full whiff of calming pheromones before he could even muster the energy to be angry with Castiel. He inhaled sharply, his muscles relaxing against his will as Castiel’s gaze trailed over the ground in embarrassment. Dean fought the effect, his blood still boiling in irritation. So maybe Castiel was ashamed of this whole ordeal. That didn’t mean anything.

He just couldn’t let go of the fact Bobby wrote about him in a letter to Castiel, a complete stranger until yesterday, who lived six states away. Dean’s issues with work weren’t any of his damn business to begin with, and for Bobby to just disregard his privacy like that was a slap in the face. “Well,” he began, trying his hardest to plaster on a fake smile for the sake of appearances, “you can take the big house, and I’ll be at the border. We’ll cover more territory if we split up.”

As attractive as the new alpha was, just standing next to him was making Dean fume with impatience. And when he was on edge, the whole prison was on edge. He didn’t know if it had anything to do with his scent naturally influencing everyone else or if they all just knew better than to mess with Dean when he was pissed off. Either way, he was satisfied with the result.

Dean only suggested splitting up because  
it was probably for the best that they spend as little time together as possible, but Castiel wasn’t as keen on his proposition as he expected him to be. “All due respect, I would prefer to take the southern border,” Castiel offered. “I don’t feel I would be very useful in the big house. You’re more familiar with the family, and the prisoners, I imagine. I’ll watch over the border.” Dean closed his eyes and grimaced to keep from saying something he would regret. Heaven help him, he needed to stay calm. Castiel must have noticed his annoyance because he amended, “Don’t worry, I like working alone.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Dean said pointedly. Castiel balked at the outburst, clearly not used to someone disagreeing with his decisions so openly. Dean couldn’t breathe shallowly enough to resist the sticky sweet scent filling the air and making him lightheaded. He wanted to shout at Castiel for trying so hard and being so determined. There was a time and a place for alphas to be so gentle and persuasive, but he didn’t need to be treated with kid gloves.

He was either oblivious to Dean’s issue with someone else guarding the post or he was blatantly ignoring Dean’s concern for his safety. “I assure you, it would be no trouble,” Castiel insisted in a calm, level voice that made Dean want to scream. He probably didn’t even realize what his scent was doing. It’s not like most people could control that sort of thing anyway. Fine. Absolutely fine. If Castiel couldn’t take a hint, maybe he would just have to spell it out for him.

“You said yourself that you don’t know how to shoot a gun,” Dean started with a sarcastic smirk. “How are you going to defend the border without a weapon?”

“Wars were fought before guns, Dean,” Castiel responded smoothly. Damn if he couldn’t think on his feet. Dean almost growled in frustration, but restrained himself just in time. “Besides, you said yourself I’m an alpha in reasonable shape,” he added. Castiel was too confident for his own good. Didn’t he know what Lucifer would do to him if he got a hold of him? If anyone should pay that price, it should be Dean, plain and simple. He’s the one who got them in this mess, and he would sure as hell see them out.

“So what? You gonna make the bad guys swoon for you?” Dean snapped. He swallowed nervously before he continued. “C’mon, it’s too dangerous. Let’s say Lucifer and his merry band of misfits come back through the southern gate. The first move he’s gonna make is to check that post and gut whoever’s defending it.”

When he finished speaking, Dean realized he had inched closer with every sentence, and he was now standing right in front of Castiel, uncomfortably close to his face. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward one last time to punctuate his words. “What’s a damn beekeeper gonna do about it?” he asked, his voice just above a low whisper.

What Dean expected would intimidate him only seemed to make Castiel more self-assured. “I can take care of myself, Dean,” he insisted, refusing to be the first to break their intense eye contact.

“Prove it,” Dean said through gritted teeth, venom dripping from his words. In that moment, he was only thinking about being right, about doing penance for what happened the night of Lucifer’s escape, and above all, about Castiel’s safety. Dean had no earthly idea how much he was about to regret challenging the alpha in front of him.

He was no stranger to fighting, but even he couldn’t control the tension in his body on first impact. Before he knew what was happening, Dean was on the ground. He shook his head quickly, snapping out of a daze. The only thing left to do was give Castiel a fair fight. May as well spar a little bit and see what he needs to learn.

Dean pushed himself up from his hands and knees, taking a running leap at Castiel. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do after getting knocked on his ass so quickly the first go round, but Castiel hadn’t made another move to attack him after sending him to the ground. The first thing he needed to learn was not to assume dominance.

Dean snarled as Castiel took the first punch to the stomach.

And the second.

By the third, Castiel snapped out of his pacifism. As he blocked Dean’s first attempt at his face and caught his wrist reflexively, Dean realized this wasn’t entirely about proving his independence anymore. This was about proving who was better.

The way he moved told Dean that he had no formal training, but it was hard to admire his natural strength and agility when he was on the receiving end of Castiel’s punches.

Dean may not be the fastest or the strongest fighter around, but he was damn sure the most stubborn. His resilience kept him going, even when he was literally inhaling dirt from being thrust on the ground. He coughed and stumbled back to his feet, sniffing the air for any changes in scent that could be a sign of weakness.

Strangely enough, after those striking displays of strength, Castielmade no attempt to harm him further. Dean, however, was still fuming at his insubordination and maybe a little jealous of his skill. Just because he had natural talent didn’t mean Dean was going to let the son of a bitch flaunt it.

Once he was on his feet a second time, he took a run at Castiel’s torso. Despite Dean’s running charge, Castiel kept his balance much better than he anticipated, digging his heels in the ground to push back just as hard.

Castiel was the first to break contact, shifting his weight to throw Dean off. He only succeeded in getting trampled under Dean’s weight.

He howled in frustration as he wrestled Dean off of him. Under normal circumstances, Dean would be thrilled to have such a strong, attractive alpha try and pin him to the ground, but this was no ordinary foreplay. He mentally smacked himself for ever calling it that as Castiel crawled on top in an attempt to subdue him. He was off his game already. The last thing he needed was to think about Castiel that way while they were working, or even sparring for that matter.

Dean froze as the alpha hovered over his midsection, wrangling his arms just above his head. Getting out of this position would take a lot of effort, but it would be damn near impossible with Castiel’s vice-like grip. The other man was much stronger than Dean initially gave him credit for.

He struggled against him for a few uncomfortable moments until his own strength wasn’t enough to pry free of Castiel’s grasp. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dean would be damned if an alpha bested him so easily on the first try, even a really hot one like Castiel. Really, he did have a fearsome reputation to uphold.

Dean craned his neck up and to the left and bit down as hard as he could on Castiel’s forearm. The other man’s hold on his arms almost instantly loosened, jerking back slightly at the pain of Dean’s sharp incisors. If he had to play a little dirty, so be it.

Before Dean scrambled to his knees, he rammed his elbow up as far as it could reach. He didn’t aim for Castiel’s face, but managed to hit lower on his chest. The other man yelped, reflexively doubling over and gasping for air as Dean managed to get back on his feet.

The self-satisfied smirk on Dean’s face didn’t last long. Castiel was mentally tougher than he assumed he would be as well. The next time he pounced, the alpha didn’t pull nearly as many punches. Castiel rammed straight into him, tackling him like a sack of flour instead of a fully grown man.

As Dean fell to the ground, he drew his knees up to his chest and delivered a swift kick to the other man’s torso. Castiel coughed and sputtered and gasped for air, somehow still on his feet. Dean’s vision blurred with sweat, and he began to wonder how they were still going. Better still, why were they still going. Castiel had long since proved he was capable of defending himself. Dean really didn’t know why he was even trying to beat him anymore.

Dean threw up his arm to his face, shielding himself from the next blow that never came. He was down this time, probably for good, and Castiel made no move to harm him any further. Dean panted in exhaustion, heaving for air. Castiel didn’t sound much better, breathing heavily above him, but at least he was still standing.

Dean grunted in frustration as he pulled himself into a sitting position on the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything but rest his elbows on his knees. “How the hell?” he asked in a low growl, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead. “Where did that come from?”

“I haven’t fought for my life in years,” he began, and Dean didn’t know whether to be worried or impressed that Castiel actually smiled as he said that. Every warning bell and whistle in his mind told Dean something didn’t add up about a beekeeper fighting for his life, but what Castiel said next distracted, and maybe flattered, him too much to press the question. “You reminded me what it means to have strength. You are an excellent fighter, Mister Winchester.” The same arm he used only moments ago to subdue his hands above his head extended in an offering of peace to help Dean to his feet.

Dean wondered if Castiel knew how ironic that sounded. “Thank you?” he guessed, hesitant to place his hand in Castiel’s. He didn’t exactly know how to respond to someone complimenting his skill after kicking his ass ten ways to Sunday. Then again, Dean wasn’t used to losing either. “So I guess this means I don’t need to teach you self defense.” He tried to laugh but only managed a broken cough.

Castiel smiled and pulled him from the ground. “Exactly,” he said. “So I am going to take the southern border. And you are going to stay in the big house.”

Dean wanted to argue more than anything else right now, but he was simply too tired to fight. He had been defeated, and as he had just learned, there was no use in protesting with Castiel when he set his mind to something.

A growl rumbled in the back of his throat, but it only came out as a strangled whimper. Dean balled his fists in frustration, his arms still at his sides. There was nothing he could say to sway Castiel now. He had officially staked his claim. And Dean couldn’t do a damn thing to stop him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He tugged on the short hairs gently. He hadn’t shaved since he arrived at the prison, and Castiel wasn’t sure he liked four days worth of prickly stubble, let alone the full beard that was bound to grow in. He had to remind himself that the facial hair would likely disguise him as well. No one would be able to tell that the fresh-faced teenager from Illinois and the rugged man from Georgia were the same person.
> 
> Castiel was a different man now, a better one. He could start fresh here in a way that he never could back home in Pontiac. If that could even be considered his home anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to all of you who have left kudos and comments! They make my day so much brighter to know people are reading.
> 
> Now I hope you're excited to read a little from Castiel's POV...

October 22

Castiel fidgeted in discomfort as he waited for Bobby to appear in the doorway and welcome him into his office.

He didn’t think he would ever miss the stifling tan trench coat or the formal clothes from his old life, but the fabric of this plaid shirt was beginning to make him itch under the collar.

Okay, maybe that was just his nerves.

That still didn’t stop Castiel from dragging his fingernails roughly over the skin of his neck, trying to scratch that insatiable itch. When the friction became too much to continue and his skin was finally satisfied, Castiel moved his anxious hands to his face, running his the pads of his fingers along the rough surface.

He tugged on the short hairs gently. He hadn’t shaved since he arrived at the prison, and Castiel wasn’t sure he liked four days worth of prickly stubble, let alone the full beard that was bound to grow in. He had to remind himself that the facial hair would likely disguise him as well. No one would be able to tell that the fresh-faced teenager from Illinois and the rugged man from Georgia were the same person.

Castiel was a different man now, a better one. He could start fresh here in a way that he never could back home in Pontiac. If that could even be considered his home anymore.

No, Castiel was quite content with settling into the prison for a while, at least until he found what he came for. That was, until a few hours ago, when he had said the stupidest thing imaginable to the omega prison guard who he was supposed to work with. He cursed himself for his indiscretion, his head falling forward in dismay. He thought he had been making so much progress.

All he wanted was to work with Dean in peace, and he’d gone and screwed his chances up for that too. In truth, Dean was a very talented omega—a little too skilled for his own good, in Castiel’s opinion—but there was no way he was going to let some guy he barely knows tell him what to do. Especially someone like Dean who expected authority simply because he was used to getting it. That was something that needed to be earned.

Still, the alpha couldn’t help but admire many of Dean’s qualities, from his strange and interesting abilities with scent to his stubborn nature. Even Castiel had to admit he had checked the guy out a time or two. Come on, it’s not everyday he saw an omega who had at least two inches on him. Dean was loud and raucous and strong and everything he’d ever imagined in a mate, and Castiel wasn’t the kind of alpha who wanted someone to take care of.

Well, Dean was different, of course he wanted to protect him. But it was about more than just that. Castiel wanted a mate he could ride into battle next to without worrying if they could handle themselves. Dean was as strong as they came, and even though he’d yet to crack the icy exterior, Castiel could tell the omega had seen more hardship than most people twice his age.

No one could fight like he could without getting some practical experience somewhere down the line. Even though Dean was skeptical of Castiel’s hidden skill, he noticed Dean was very resilient and more determined than he’d ever seen anyone.

That was until Castiel had wrestled him to the ground. Dean had been so tense underneath him in those few moments before he snapped out of it and started fighting dirty. Time slowed down in that minute, and Dean had stopped struggling for a moment to stare up at him with lust blown eyes. He shook his head quickly to get the image of Dean on his back underneath him out of his head.

He certainly didn’t need to remind himself of that right now. Not when he was about to speak with the warden to apologize for being such an idiot today. Besides, any chance he possibly could have had with Dean were ruined the second those awful words came tumbling out of his mouth. He regretted them the instant he realized the implications what he had said.

Castiel moved his hands along the nape of his neck, carding his fingers through his hair in a comforting rhythm the way his brother used to. He doubted he would ever see Gabriel again, especially after what split them up so long ago.

Lucifer had a way of destroying everything around him. Even the people he pretended to care about.

Castiel didn’t have time to work himself up over his stepbrother’s crimes against humanity because a pair of worn leather boots padded into the corners of his vision. He quickly looked up to find Bobby Singer standing in front of him. Castiel tried for a pleasant smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than nod curtly before entering the office.

“Have a seat, son,” Bobby said with a huff, plopping into the wooden chair behind his desk. Castiel cautiously sat down across from the warden, biting his lower lip in anticipation. “You said you needed to speak with me,” he said, leaning forward to listen.

“I came to apologize,” Castiel began, taking a deep breath. Bobby propped himself on his elbows, still paying attention to the man across from him. Before Castiel could stop himself, the words came rushing out. “I know I came here in search of my stepbrother, but I don’t know how much longer I can tolerate working with Dean Winchester. He questions everything I say and do, he treats me as an inferior, and he doesn’t trust me with the simplest of tasks. Now I’m not saying we have to like each other, but if we’re going to hunt Lucifer, we must have respect for one another’s abilities.”

Bobby nodded in understanding, and Castiel relaxed knowing that he agreed with him on that much at least. “Dean has some trust issues. I’m aware,” Bobby began, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. Something told Castiel that he was not the first person that Dean had trouble working with. “That’s part of the reason I wanted you two to partner up for this case. Thought maybe it would give him some company. Kid’s been lonely ever since his parents died, never really worked through all those problems, and with such a small town, it’s hard to outrun your past.” Castiel could relate to that feeling. It’s what made him decide to pick up and move to the middle of freaking nowhere just a few short weeks ago. “I’m still not sure what you’re apologizing for though.”

Castiel took a steadying breath and closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Bobby for the first part of his confession. “I may have stepped over the line today. Dean overslept and was preoccupied this morning, so I took the liberty of handling things myself,” he began, opening his eyes to find Bobby listening intently to him. He didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the idea of Castiel taking care of things around the prison as Dean was. He was mortified to find Castiel had done anything without his explicit permission. “I didn’t see the harm in taking six of the prisoners out into the wheat fields to keep baling hay, just as they were yesterday. I figured I would let them work for a couple of hours, take them in for dinner and bring Dean out with us later to finish up.

“But Dean showed up around eight this morning—none too happy about what I had done—and we started arguing over seniority. And after we started that fight the other day over the same thing, I was still really pent up about not being in charge. I… may have told him he was a self-righteous omega,” Castiel admitted, a look of shame washing over him. Bobby raised his eyebrows in shock, waiting for an explanation. Castiel shrank into his chair and continued, “It was a reflex. I don’t even believe that! I was just so angry that he was telling me what to do, it just slipped out. I’m sorry. I’m really not like that.”

When the alpha had finished rambling, he searched Bobby’s face for an answer, some consolation, maybe, that what he said was forgivable. He hesitated to respond, but when he did, he said, “Castiel, you know that Dean has this job because he is the best person for it.”

“And he has a lot of talent—” Castiel began, sincerely trying to make up for how badly he had hurt Dean. Obviously, he had never meant to insult his secondary gender, that was one of the most fascinating things Castiel knew about him so far. It’s part of what made him so talented to begin with. It just made him so angry that Dean thought he could control him.

Castiel had enough manipulative people in the life he’d left behind to last an eternity. He’d rather not have someone so clearly submissive give him orders too.

“And that talent gives him a fair bit of authority around here—at least for now,” Bobby interrupted, his voice firm. Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew Dean was better than him, that he had been working here longer than him, and he was far more experienced at all of this than Castiel. But when you’re used to being the tallest and the fastest in the room, it can be easy to get jealous when someone even remotely challenges you. Bobby sighed and began to speak with the wisdom of someone who had seen it all, and Castiel felt compelled to listen. “I’m gonna let you in on a not-so-secret secret about Dean. He has to feel needed. Ever since that kid was four years old, he’s shoved down every instinct he had to take care of everybody around him. Guess it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise when he presented as an omega. He was just so strong, I always assumed he’d be an alpha. But that just goes to show you looks don’t mean everything

“Point is, if you want Dean to like you, you’ve got to let him teach you something. You don’t have to play a damsel in distress or anything, but you can’t just assume you know better.” Castiel nodded his head in agreement. That made enough sense, he supposed. No one liked to feel useless, least of all Dean. “Don’t worry about whether or not you’re in charge,” Bobby continued. “You’ll be on the same playing field in no time, and who knows, maybe you’ll get along. I hope so anyway, because we need a team to take down Lucifer. And whenever you two are ready, I want you to lead the charge.”

He certainly hoped so. That’s all he ever really wanted when he moved here, and even though Castiel may be distracted by a few things at the prison, he was still focused on his main goal. Catching his stepbrother and bringing him to justice.

“Yes, sir,” Castiel said dutifully. He almost jumped as he heard three loud knocks on the door behind him. Damn he wished he had Dean’s knack for scent. Maybe people would have a harder time sneaking up on him. “Dean!” he almost shouted, a little surprised to see him standing in the doorway. Of course, Castiel should have assumed he’d want his hide for what he had said earlier, and Bobby was the best person to take that up with, but it still came as a shock to see Dean standing there. How long had he been listening anyway? “Wh–what, what are you doing here?” he asked, tripping over his words anxiously.

Instead of answering right away and turning his attention to Bobby, Dean simply ignored his presence altogether. “May I?” he asked in Bobby’s direction, gesturing to the chair next to Castiel. The warden nodded, and Dean dropped into the seat with a lazy sigh. He finally turned to Castiel in acknowledgement. “I was just dropping by for a chat with Bobby about what happened this morning.”

“Well it’s not exactly hot off the press anymore,” Bobby muttered, lacing his fingers together and resting them on the desk. Everyone always expected him to be the mediator for spats and arguments around the prison, and quite frankly, he was getting too old for this shit. You’d think grown men could sort out their problems on their own, but no. These idjits came to him. “How about we start from the beginning?” he asked, trying to keep his impatience under control.

Dean sank further into the chair and snapped, “Freaking delightful.” Bobby gave him a pointed look as if to say ‘stow your crap’, and he continued. “It all started this morning when someone decided it would be a good idea to do things on his own.” Castiel could already tell this was going to be hard to sit through. Dean was passive aggressive on a good day, and he certainly seemed ready to give Bobby a piece of his mind about him.

If they were being honest, this spat started long before this morning, so that part wasn’t really accurate, but Castiel had to admit it’s what pushed Dean over the edge. “Novak here wanted to take the southern border and my patrol. Not to mention that I was stuck cleaning latrines and doing laundry instead of the real work like we’re supposed to be doing. Now I admit it. I woke up late for breakfast. I’m not exactly batting a thousand, that’s on me. That still doesn’t excuse the fact that I found Novak out in the fields with six of Georgia’s most wanted like it was nothing. The guy’s a nutcase.”

Dean glared over at him as if that was the end of his story. If only. If Bobby had brought him on for any other position, Dean could have easily gotten along with him. After all, they seemed to enjoy each other's’ company when they first met. It was only after Castiel challenged him and Dean realized that he was here to replace him that their friendship went south. His animosity with Castiel, as he was just discovering, was rooted more in jealousy than anything else. That and the latrines. Only rookies should clean the latrines.

Dean was no stranger to grunt work, but he couldn’t say he was fond of being told what to do by anyone, let alone someone so demanding who shouldn’t have any authority in the first place. Seriously, who died and made him king? Castiel didn’t have a clue what was going on half the time anyway.

As Dean continued to rant, Castiel had a difficult time not jumping in every few seconds to add his two cents to the mix. But it was Dean’s story to tell, and he was going to let him tell it.

_Dean marched his way across the cotton field, fuming at the audacity of Castiel’s independence. He couldn’t find words to describe how thoroughly pissed off he was. Dead plants crunched under his feet, echoing his thoughts with every footfall. The blood pumping through his veins was hot with iron, and there wasn’t a damn thing Castiel could say to make it better._

_“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean snapped, getting Castiel’s attention as he approached. Oh, he was bitter this morning._

_Castiel turned to face him, pleasantly surprised to see him. “Look who decided to join us,” he said, and Dean resisted the urge to punch him in the face._

_He breathed deeply to calm himself. “Did you not think maybe I need to be here when you let this many out at a time?” Dean asked. Castiel shrugged in response. It wasn’t a big deal. Everything was running smoothly, and he didn’t need someone to hold his hand while he worked._

_Dean gazed out in the field with contempt. Six of the baddest sons of bitches in the South stood before him, bent over working the fields. Wheat had already produced its yield for the year, but the crops needed to be baled into hay before they could plant anything for the winter. His ego wanted him to find something to wrong with their work, but Dean had to admit they were doing a damn fine job without his supervision._

_Just as Dean quieted and accepted the events of the morning, Castiel spoke. “Do you think this is too similar slavery?” he asked, gesturing to the fields where several of the prisoners were bent over their work. To the average man, it certainly looked like slavery. They were confined to an area of land, forced to work, and overseen by a guard round the clock. But to Dean, it looked relatively normal, and to insult his very profession was the last straw._

_“Hell no,” Dean said. It was a reflex at this point. Some of the locals didn’t quite understand the benefits of the system, and Dean didn’t expect an outsider to know either. “Negroes didn’t do anything to deserve this,” he explained, pointing at Alistair as he swung a hoe into the earth. “But them? These sorry sacks murder and steal. They lie and cheat without regards to the consequences. And not the second chancers either. Repeat offenders. The real monsters of the world. The least the government can get out of them is a little labor in exchange for keeping them up.”_

_Castiel pondered his statement for a while, weighing the explanation in his head. “I suppose,” he agreed softly._

_“What?” Dean snapped, looking Castiel squarely in the eyes and stepping a little closer. “You Yankees not see things like that or something?”_

_“I never said that,” he replied, and Dean thought he might actually snap at how innocent he sounded. “And I don’t understand your animosity with the North. The war is over.” Wow, he actually thought that was the problem. Castiel paused for a beat and amended, “I’m beginning to think your anger is directed at me.”_

_Dean smirked in disbelief. He had finally figured it out. “Oh, really? What could ever make you think something like that?” he asked sarcastically. Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but Dean lowered his voice and answered himself. “Maybe an amaetuer coming down here and telling me how to do my damn job.”_

_The other man tentatively approached Dean, and he gave his best menacing look, warning him not to come any closer. Castiel took the hint and stopped. “If this is about what happened the other day,” he began, “I will not apologize for trying to keep you safe.”_

_“No one died and made you queen, Novak,” Dean almost shouted. All Dean wanted was to do what he had always done, the tried and true method that kept him on top. He was the best. But lately that was getting harder to believe. He lowered his voice to a whisper, and said, “It’s not your job to keep me safe. Your job is to take orders from me. There’s a chain of command around here.”_

_Castiel raised his eyebrows at that, a low growl escaping his throat. “I will not take orders from a self-righteous ome—” He stopped, short of finishing his sentence. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, and now as Castiel covered his mouth with the back of his hand, he knew Dean wouldn’t forget about this._

_He stood there not saying anything in response, his jaw set frustration. Dean was used to people underestimating him, but openly admitting it was because of his status was a low blow._

_Just when Dean thought his day couldn’t get any worse, he heard a mocking voice singsong from behind. “Don’t you just hate it when mummy and daddy are fighting?” Crowley asked in a staged whisper. The men surrounding to him chuckled in chorus, pretending to be distracted by their work._

_Dean knew better than to let something like this slide. “Can it, Crowley!” he shouted. The laughter died out as the men turned their attention back to their work._

_As soon as Dean had restored order, Castiel muttered, “Neither of us can possibly be a mother.” He heard subdued laughter again from behind. Oh, this must be endlessly entertaining to them._

_Alistair raised his eyebrows in response. “Looks like someone’s getting jealous,” he muttered under his breath._

_“All of you, back to work!” Dean yelled, lowering his voice to a deep growl. Again, they were silenced by his outburst. “We will discuss this later,” he grumbled as he faced Castiel again._

_A heavy silence fell over the both of them as one of the prisoners began whistling a rendition of when the saints go marching in. Dean rolled his eyes. Zachariah was one of the few people in this prison that was more selfish than dangerous. His crimes were that of embezzling and capitalistic backstabbing, and to be quite honest, Dean didn’t see how that was much better. A felony was a felony to him, and however dignified Zachariah tried to be, he was still a criminal._

_When the silence—and the whistling—had become too much for Castiel to handle, he tried again, “Dean, I’m sorry—”_

_“Stop.”_

_“That’s not how I meant for that to come out. I apologize—”_

_“I’m sure you feel guilty about it,” Dean said, his voice dripping in spite. “But that doesn’t make it better.” He shook his head regretfully before turning to walk back to the big house. He needed to find Bobby._

Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably at this part of his story. “Then I tried to find you to tell you all of this, and I ran into Jody on her way to town,” he explained. It was autumn, after all, and people would be coming to her for advice on how to clear up a cold in a matter of weeks. She was probably going to stock up on supplies before winter got rough.

_When he caught her, she was almost out the door. “Hey, do you happen to know where Bobby is?” he asked before she could leave._

_“He’s probably out back. I saw him chopping wood with Rufus about half an hour ago,” she replied, stopping to turn around and look at him. Jody could always tell when something was wrong. “Why? What’s going on?”_

_“Nothing,” Dean lied, trying to slink further in the house. In hindsight, it probably would have been more effective if he had looked her in the eyes. Jody’s gaze narrowed on him, and Dean knew her curiosity was inescapable now. “Fine. It’s Novak, the new guy Bobby brought in.”_

_“Oh, you two aren’t getting along,” she guessed, setting down her wicker basket for shopping later._

_“Understatement,” he said, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I wasn’t thrilled to get someone new to start with. It’s just… I thought I was getting a sidekick, and Castiel turned out to be a bit more capable than I bargained for.”_

_“And that’s a bad thing?” Jody asked. “I thought capable was what Bobby wanted.”_

_“Jody, he has me cleaning latrines!” he protested, pointing out to the fields where Castiel stood. “He took the cabin down by the border and left me with nothing important to do. I’m—I don’t even know what I am anymore, I’m just useless,” Dean said, hanging his head in misery._

_Jody touched his shoulder reassuringly, and Dean looked up again. “Ever think maybe he’s trying to protect you? Or, you know…” she trailed off. “Impress you.”_

_Dean sighed. Of course that thought had crossed his mind. And with Dean’s first impression of him, he couldn’t say Castiel was hard on the eyes. He was just so damn stubborn. “I don’t know, Jody,” he said helplessly. “Maybe, but I just need to talk to Bobby.”_

_“Okay,” she agreed. “You’ll probably have to wait on him to finish up. He should be in for dinner around noon.”_

_He nodded and waved as she picked up her basket again and went outside. Maybe Jody was right, and Castiel felt the need to do well at this job to impress Dean. But that didn’t make any sense. He needed a hunting partner, not someone to babysit him. Dean sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration as he made his way to Bobby’s study._

_It was odd, being useless, at a time when he thought he would be busy. That was why Castiel was here, after all. He needed help, not protection, and certainly not discrimination. Okay, Dean had to admit it probably wasn’t as bad as he was making it, but still, it hurt to think he couldn’t do the one thing he was good at._

“So what did you talk to Jody about?” Castiel asked, speaking up for the first time since Dean started talking. The conversation had been silent for a few moments, and Dean was just sitting there as if he was thinking of what to say next.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. Dean licked his lips and swallowed hard. Whatever they had talked about, it wasn’t nothing, but now hardly seemed like the time to press the issue. “Just—that’s why I wasn’t here earlier.”

Bobby’s gaze shifted to Castiel as Dean trailed off. “I didn’t mean for what I said to come across that way,” he said, trying desperately to defend himself. “But your attitude towards me doesn’t help matters. I need to have some authority to do the job. I can’t rely on Dean for everything.” Bobby nodded his understanding, and anger flared up in Dean at the injustice.

“You can help me get more done, but you can’t take over my whole life. I’m not some low-level grunt that you can push to the side. I’m a grown man, and I can take care of myself. Besides,” Dean added with a bite, “you don’t even have any experience.”

“Yes, and I am also a grown man,” Castiel countered, squinting in irritation. Grown men. That was one term for it. Bobby would’ve chosen whiny brats, personally, his eyes almost glazing over as they continued to argue with each other. “I don’t need someone to stand watch over me all hours of the day, and I certainly don’t need someone telling me what to do and treating me like a child.”

Bobby sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. “How long have you two known each other again?” he asked, scratching his beard and leaning back to look at both of them.

Dean couldn’t tell him an exact amount of time, but it was far too long for his taste. As if on cue, Castiel answered without hesitation. “Four days.”

Bobby rolled his sharply and snapped, “Well you bitch like an old married couple.”

“Bobby—” Dean protested, but before he could make his argument, Bobby had already interrupted.

“I’m not finished, boy,” he said, standing to his feet to tower over both of them. Dean knew exactly what he was doing. It was a simple tactic used to intimidate others just by seeming taller. Castiel seemed to have mastered this trick, and added his own touch of invading Dean’s personal space. Just because Dean knew the drill didn’t mean it was any less effective. “Have you two actually tried to get to know each other?”

“Yes!” they exclaimed in unison. Bobby scowled and shook his head.

Okay, so maybe that part wasn’t true. Other than making awkward small talk and Dean subconsciously scenting him the night they met, their encounters had been limited to brief exchanges about morning coffee and the argument during their fight. They had barely spoken since their turf battle a few days ago, and quite frankly, Dean would like to keep it that way.

Bobby rolled his eyes and began to pace the length of his desk. “If you two idjits don’t clean up your act and work together, you’ll both be up shit creek without a paddle because we won’t be able to catch the most wanted criminal south of the Mason-Dixon!” Dean swallowed in understanding, his gaze turning downward to Bobby’s desk.

“Mister Singer,” Castiel began, “all due respect, but since I’ve arrived, I think I have unloaded Dean’s hectic schedule. Shouldn’t he just relax and appreciate the help?”

Dean was about three seconds away from growling, but instead, he sobered his expression, and spoke calmly. “I appreciate the chivalry, buddy, I really do,” he said in earnest. Castiel seemed to relax at that. “But taking over my whole life isn’t the same as holding the door,” Dean explained, looking up at Bobby for approval.

He was overjoyed to see Bobby agree with him. “Castiel, I don’t know what notions you have about omegas up North,” he began tactfully. It was important to be respectful in these situations. “But Dean has the best damn nose anybody has ever seen.” A bit of pride welled up in him at the realization that Bobby was taking his side. “I know he can be a whiny know-it-all, especially when he feels threatened.” Okay, maybe not, but he still sounded like he was taking Dean’s side. “You can still learn from him. And _you_.” Bobby rounded on Dean. “Castiel may be a little green, but he’s not an idjit. Show him the ropes around here. And try not to be an ass about it.”

Dean sputtered in response, but he didn’t have a good comeback. He was speechless for one of the first times in his life. He glared at Castiel and harrumphed. They would have to work together somehow.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Bobby said, straightening his vest as he stood to his feet. “I would like some dinner before I stack all of that wood.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still, he knew Castiel was right. All of that wasn’t an excuse to treat him like some kind of monster. Sometimes Dean thought he had worked around criminals so long, he started treating everyone like they were about to steal his wallet. That wasn’t fear; that was precaution—a well-founded, reasonable precaution. Dean shifted, his shoulders tensing in discomfort. “Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “in my defense, I warned you I was prickly.”

November 1

A loud shot pierced the air followed by the resounding crackle of glass. The bottle shattered on impact, sharp edges falling to the ground in a chorus of shrill _pops_. It had taken a few tries for Castiel to stop flinching every time he pulled the trigger and a few morning sessions to get comfortable with the revolver’s use.

Dean watched the alpha’s posture relax after firing the gun. He still needed more practice to keep from tensing up so much, but Castiel was getting a handle on aim and accuracy. Dean drew his eyes away from his colleague to examine where the shot hit. The bullet had cut straight through the glass bottle near the top and shattered it into a jagged edge. Dean looked back at Castiel, who was standing in awe of his own shot.

“See, you’re getting the hang of it,” he muttered in encouragement.

Dean had actually made an effort to make Castiel welcome around the prison since their meeting with Bobby. It started when Castiel offered to take shooting lessons from him a few days ago, but lately, Dean found himself wondering why they didn’t get along to begin with.

Castiel had grown on him, maybe more than the omega would like to admit.

He shook his head woefully, eyes caught in a downward gaze. “I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you,” Castiel said with a shrug, spearing his revolver in the new leather holster Dean had scrounged up for him yesterday. He glanced up just in time to see Dean’s dumbfounded expression. “What? You had three bullseyes yesterday.”

Dean nodded and gave a small smile in response. He hadn’t expected Castiel to be so relaxed about all of this. For all of his attempts at superiority, the alpha had shown some respectable humility in recent days. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but they were actually starting to get along. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” Dean said, his smile spreading into a playful smirk. He was grateful that Castiel was learning to appreciate his talents instead of pushing them to the side. His grin faded into sincerity. “All jokes aside, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since you got here.”

The alpha took a deep breath, sighing long and hard. Dean took it he had thought about this a lot recently. “Contrary to what you may believe,” Castiel began in earnest, “I am not the monster you've made me out to be in your head.”

He knew that. Castiel obviously wasn’t the person Dean thought he was. He was just… _skeptical_ of him. For his awkward eye contact. For his weird invasion of his personal space. For his freaky ninja moves that knocked Dean on his ass. For his stupid fucking scent that made Dean go mushy inside at all the wrong times.

Still, he knew Castiel was right. All of that wasn’t an excuse to treat him like some kind of monster. Sometimes Dean thought he had worked around criminals so long, he started treating everyone like they were about to steal his wallet. That wasn’t fear; that was precaution—a well-founded, reasonable precaution. Dean shifted, his shoulders tensing in discomfort. “Yeah, well,” he grumbled, “in my defense, I warned you I was prickly.”

Castiel smiled at the memory, how he’d brushed aside Dean’s insistence that he held people at arm’s length. At the time, he had just assumed the omega was hesitant to make friends with someone so new and intimidating. In hindsight, maybe that was a little self-centered. Dean was about the furthest thing from shy that he could possibly be. A little antisocial sometimes, but absolutely, unabashedly brave.

“That you did, Mister Winchester,” he admitted, trying not to chuckle at his own assumption. “I may have misread you upon our first meeting.”

Dean scoffed at his admission, stifling his own laughter. “Bet you say that to all the boys,” he said in his deepest, most I-am-definitely-not-flirting voice. Castiel looked at him quizzically, unfazed by his teasing. Dean smirked, struck by a rare burst of friendliness, and said, “You know, I may not be the sharing and caring type, but you can call me Dean if you want.”

“Alright, Dean.” He swallowed at the sound of his name on the alpha’s lips. He’d heard Castiel address him plenty of times since they met, but this was different somehow. Dean hadn’t expected a chill to run through him, the hairs standing up on his forearms at the mere mention of his name. He tried to ignore whatever his body was telling him to listen to Castiel instead. “I owe you an apology. I really didn’t mean to storm in here telling you what to do. I know I have a lot to learn, but I’m used to everything coming easy and I guess I didn’t realize how much I was bothering you trying to be the best. I didn’t mean to imply that you can’t handle yourself because you’re an omega. If anything, your senses make you better at this than I am. _But you need my help_.”

Dean sighed, knowing he had been defeated. He was right, of course, he did need Castiel’s help. And clearly, this rivalry they had going wasn’t productive for either of them. Maybe they should just move past this and start fresh. He would still rather take the cabin by the southern border as a precaution, but Castiel insisted he keep the post for himself. Dean couldn’t begrudge his work ethic, but at least now he had agreed to train together and learn the ropes in his downtime.

Dean bit his bottom lip, rolling it between his teeth nervously. “I’m sorry for being such an ass to you, man,” he said, any residual anger he had left draining away in that instant. “That was way out of line. I just—I don’t like being weak. And you being here is just a reminder every damn day that I can’t do this job on my own.”

The alpha tilted his head to the side as if he were analyzing him down to the last freckle. Dean was a little uncomfortable being scrutinized that closely, but he suspected that it was Castiel’s way of caring. “That’s not your fault, Dean,” he said, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on Dean’s arm. He bristled at the touch but didn’t shy away from it. “That’s what Mister Singer asked me to be here for.”

Heat rose to his face, and Dean prayed the other man stayed oblivious. Shit, what was happening to him? If someone had told Dean a month ago he would be desperate for an alpha’s touch, he would have laughed in their face and punched them in the dick. Sure, he connected with people before. He’d spent the better part of his teenage years with Lisa Braeden, a local girl he had met in school, until she and her parents moved to the coast to be closer to family.

Then there had been Anna, another beta who was merely passing through town. She came from a wealthy family and fled to escape a marriage to a preacher in Atlanta. They only knew each other for three weeks, but there was a time Dean thought she could’ve been the one. Then she left as soon as the war broke out to tend to wounded soldiers, and Dean decided long-term relationships were overrated. Most people his age were obsessed with finding a mate, the poor saps, but not him. Not anymore. He didn’t need anyone anymore, and at this point, he doubted anyone would be willing to help carry his baggage.

After that, he tried for one night stands. Most of the respectable women in town wouldn’t play that game, but Dean liked to frequent the tavern on his evenings off. He scored a few times, but nothing lasted longer than the night. It was a rule he took very seriously in both his personal and professional life—he would always be done before the morning comes.

The one time he managed to strike a match with a barfly, she was gone before he even woke up the next morning. That was a real flip of the script for Dean. Now he wasn’t really sure if Bela counted as a relationship considering they didn’t last more than a few hours, but he had lulled himself into a false sense of security to stick around past dawn. He had wanted to stay. That had to be some kind of record, even for Dean.

So sue him, he wanted to be intimate with someone. But he didn’t _need_ to be in a relationship. Dean had never needed anything as frivolous like that. Maybe when he was old and gray and people expected him to show a little weakness. It would be nice, but it wasn’t a luxury Dean could afford, especially not now, when so much was riding on his career.

It kind of scared him how much he enjoyed Castiel’s touch, something as simple as a brush on his shoulder, but he hadn’t felt anything like that in such a long time, maybe ever. He just wanted it to stay a little longer. “I know,” Dean said with a shaky breath. He could have sworn Castiel left a handprint on his arm. As if the addictive smell of sticky sweetness wasn’t enough, now Dean was struggling to avoid chasing after his touch. “I just get a little protective over terra firma, okay?”

The alpha certainly agreed with that statement. He had seen firsthand how territorial Dean could get over the things he cared about.

Dean cleared his throat loudly, a routine he had become all too familiar with when he put himself in compromising situations. “So—um… what do you say we raise a little hell and wake the neighbors?” Dean suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows, the sincerity of the moment gone as if it had never happened. He had to keep his game face on. “C’mon, it’s gotta be like seven by now. You wanna fire another round or two for good measure?”

Castiel beamed at him, and Dean didn’t think he could ever get tired of making this man smile. He wanted to give Castiel as many beautiful laugh lines and crow's feet that would fit on his handsome face.

He drew out his revolver once again, inspecting the sight and switching the safety. He aimed at what was left of the glass bottle on the fencepost several yards away. “Up and at ‘em, boys,” Castiel shouted, pulling the trigger.

Dean had never really been in love before, but he always imagined this is what it would feel like. He stared in awe as Castiel emptied the chamber, shards of glass falling to the ground until there was nothing left on the post. When he was finally finished, Castiel turned back to Dean as if he was searching for approval.

“And the student becomes the master,” he said, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. “Well, I think that’s enough for now. I could use some breakfast. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

As the two of them made their way to the big house, Dean couldn’t help but smile as he smelled fresh biscuits and a wide array of other breakfast assortments. He loved Saturday mornings. The leftovers alone were to die for, but the real thing, he would most definitely kill for. Dean turned the handle and pushed into the kitchen through the side door.

“Hey, Jody, it smells amazing,” he said in greeting, glancing around the room in search of the cook. Who he found at the stove instead took him entirely by surprise. “ _Ellen_? I thought Mills was in charge of breakfast this morning.”

“I’m earning my keep,” she said simply, turning to face Dean and Castiel. The woman narrowed her eyes as if she sensed something she couldn’t explain yet. “And don’t you steal any fatback. That bacon is for everyone. You hear me? I’m looking at you, Winchester.”

Dean threw his hands up in surrender with a quick, “Yes, ma’am. Loud and clear,” as Castiel chuckled beside of him.

The door opened again behind him, and Dean turned to see Jody carrying in an armful of firewood. “You boys through making all that racket?” she asked, hitching up her skirt to kick the door shut behind her. Dean took the the top piece of wood from her arms and shoved it into the stove to keep the flames burning hot. Even if Ellen was almost done, they would need a fire in the grate for most of the day. She dropped the rest in a pile on the floor, smirking just a little as she said, “We were getting worried you two were fighting again.”

“Me and Cas?” Dean asked, glancing over at Castiel. He searched the alpha’s bright blue eyes for any sign of enmity. “Nah, I think we buried the hatchet.”

Jody dusted her hands on a dishrag, the scrappy pieces of bark falling to the floor. She reached for an apron on the coatrack and put her head through the top. “Good for you,” she said earnestly, tying the cream-colored cloth behind her back. “I would’ve asked you help, but Ellen volunteered to join me this morning. I know how much you like working in here.”

Dean's fascination with the kitchen actually had nothing to do with being an omega, thank you very much. Gluttony had made him a good cook, plain and simple. He liked to eat, and if that made him a natural ‘caretaker’, Dean was just gonna roll with it.

Still, his curiosity about Ellen was about to get the better of him. “Yeah, she told me,” he said, watching the back of her head as she turned several pieces of bacon in the frying pan. “Said she was ‘earning her keep’. Not sure why. She’s always welcome here.”

Jody picked up the sack of flour sitting on the counter and placed it in the floor with a resounding thump. “Dean,” she said quietly, and he knew something must be wrong. His brow furrowed in curiosity, and Jody gave him a look of warning. “Can I speak with you outside?”

He nodded, following her through the side door he and Castiel came in earlier. “Go on in. I’ll catch up with you,” Dean said, waving dismissively at the alpha as he passed. When they were outside of the house and safely out of earshot, Jody sat down on the bottom step of the porch. She patted the space next to her, and Dean took a seat on the cool stone ledge.

“Bobby didn’t tell you, did he?” she asked, her voice warm and patient. Dean was always amazed at how Jody kept herself composed all the time when he’d seen with his own two eyes how fierce she was capable of being. He shook his head, still confused as to what she meant. “Ellen and Jo are here because they don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m not sure if you remember Will Harvelle, you were just a kid the last time they visited. Will was Ellen’s husband, Jo’s father. He died in a hunting accident a few weeks ago.”

Dean’s eyes widened in shock. No one had told him anything about that. He hadn’t heard so much as a hint of a whisper why the Harvelles were staying here, but that didn’t change anything in his mind. They were still family.

“I just didn’t want you to say something you regretted, kiddo,” Jody said sagely, patting him on the knee in a reassuring way. He wanted to take offense to that, but Dean knew she was right. Jody was usually right. “They’re keeping it quiet, but I figured if anyone knew what they were going through, it’s you. Speaking of, I know what tomorrow is. How are you holding up?”

Dean groaned, his head falling between his knees. Of course she knew what tomorrow was. Everyone around the prison knew tomorrow was the anniversary of John and Mary Winchester’s death, also known as that one day out of the year when everyone knew to leave Dean alone. He lifted his head up and turned to face Jody.

“I’m okay,” he grumbled. She gave him a pointed look. “I said I’m okay, Jody! I swear, the next person who asks me if I’m okay, I’m gonna start throwing punches.”

It was obviously an empty threat, but Dean couldn’t help but get a little pissed at her reaction. Jody just chuckled at his outburst and shook her head. “You Winchesters and your aversion to feelings,” she said with a long suffering look. Dean exhaled in something that was a mix of a growl and a sigh. He didn’t have an aversion to feelings. He had an aversion to _talking_  about said feelings. There was a subtle difference. As if Jody could read his mind, she decided not to press him any further. “You ever want to talk, you know where to find me. Until then.” She pushed herself to her feet. “We have breakfast to distract us.” Jody smiled warmly, and Dean gladly pulled himself from the bottom step and followed her back inside.

When they reached the kitchen, Ellen had already tidied up most of the supplies and utensils. The muffled sound of conversation echoed through the hallway that led to the dining room. Dean followed the noise to the open hallway, where a dozen members of their little work family were gathered around the table, gossiping animatedly and shoving each other out of the way to get at the food placed strategically along the center of the table.

Dean sighed in relief at the comforting scent of everyone he cared about all in one room. Crowds of strangers may make him uneasy, but groups of familiar people made him feel right at home. The fresh, robust scents of his closest kin relaxed him in a way that nothing else could.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Most of the mingling scents straightened out as he identified each one individually, but something changed when he sensed Castiel. There was something different about the smell of honey, something bitter and charred in the place of its usual silkiness.

Dean’s eyes quickly shot back open.

He scanned the room for his new colleague and found him sitting next to Benny, deep in conversation. He marched over to the empty seat on the other side of Castiel. “Hey, hey!” he barked loudly, pulling out the chair and plopping down in it. Benny leaned away slightly, but Castiel was back in the quiet, introspective mode Dean remembered from when they first met. Clearly, Dean had missed whatever they were talking about. “No hazing Cas. You can’t give him a hard time just because he works with me.”

Benny chuckled, completely unfazed by Dean’s response. “Actually, I was jus’ askin’ him if he wanted to bring a date to the party in town. Oh, thank you, ma’am,” he said to Ellen as she passed him the plate of scrambled eggs. Benny piled a large spoonful onto his plate and passed them on to Castiel. “Here, have some eggs. Word through the grapevine is Sam scored us invites to a festival.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Dean said hesitantly. Benny wasn’t known to twist the truth, but that alone shouldn’t have thrown Castiel’s scent off so much. He glanced over at the alpha who was dutifully spooning eggs onto his plate, his mouth forced into a grimace. Whatever was wrong, Dean needed to cut the tension. “But come on, Benny, he’s been in town like two weeks. Cut the guy a break.”

Castiel handed the plate over with a grateful look. “Thank you, Dean,” he said, accepting the basket of fresh biscuits from Benny. The omega’s nose twitched. He was more or less back to normal. Crisis averted. “And with all due respect, I will not be bringing anyone as a ‘plus one’.” He held back a snigger as Castiel put air quotes around ‘plus one’.

“‘S okay,” Benny replied with a good-natured smile. “Fine ladies are in high demand ‘round here. Your loss is my gain, brother.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he grabbed for the coffee pot. “Ignore him,” he told Castiel, pouring the hot liquid into a steaming mug. “He’s happily mated and married. You just haven’t met Andrea yet.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, the tension in his grimace easing up. “So, what did Jody need to talk to you about?”

Dean took a sip of the scalding black coffee. “Nothing to worry about,” he lied, casually setting the mug back on the table. It was hard enough going through the ringer the first time, but every year it was like he relived the pain of losing his parents all over again. The last thing he wanted was to air out his dirty laundry to Castiel at the moment. “Just some private family business.”

Before the alpha could respond, Bobby called for everyone’s attention. “Usual suspects, listen up,” he shouted, pounding his fist like a gavel on the wooden dining table. All eyes turned toward the warden as other conversations faded out. When he was satisfied with their silence, he spoke. “It seems we have an announcement this morning. Sam has the floor,” Bobby said simply, gesturing at the gentle giant standing awkwardly next to him.

“Uh—okay,” he said with a wave of his hand and a shy smile. “I’ll bottom line it. For those of you who haven’t heard, we’ve been officially invited to the harvest festival at the Leahy Farm—”

Garth interrupted with a hesitant raise of his hand. “Er, Sam,” he said, looking confused. “I hate to break it to you, buddy, but it’s November. Harvest is pretty much over around here.”

“That’s what I said,” Dean exclaimed, snapping his fingers and pointing at Garth with an ‘I told you so’ stare in Sam's direction.

Sam scowled at him in what Dean labeled as his bitchface. “Okay, so think of it as an early Thanksgiving celebration,” he said in exasperation, smoothing his hair back behind his ears. “It’s two weeks from today, and I’d like for all of you to come and meet our neighbor, Miss Eileen Leahy. We’ve been really isolated in the last couple of years, and as the public and legal relations officer, I have accepted Miss Leahy’s generous offer to rebuild our image—especially in light of… recent events.” Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, covering his mouth with his hand as he went to sit back down.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Dean said with a devious smirk before Sam could get out of the spotlight. Everyone turned to look at Dean on the other end of the table, but he could see the horror in Sam’s eyes as he froze, drawing back to his full posture. “What Sammy’s _trying_ to say is that he wants us to meet his new girlfriend, and we all get to embarrass the living hell out of him.”

“ _Dean_ , for the last time,” Sam said sharply, glaring at his brother from across the table, “she is not my girlfriend. Miss Leahy is a very strong woman, a pillar of the community, and I, for one, am grateful for her neighborly spirit.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up at his little brother’s naïve phrasing. He couldn’t believe his luck. This was a golden opportunity to shed some light on a beautiful, blossoming relationship, and Dean just couldn’t resist going cards up on something like that. “Neighborly spirit?” he quipped, barely suppressing a laugh. “Is that what the kids are saying these days? I think I’ll stick to calling it a good old-fashioned high sex drive.”

“It’s not—we’re not—” he sputtered, shifting from foot to foot in an awkward stance. Bobby whistled long and low, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Oh yeah, today just got a lot more interesting. Sam would probably try to smother him with a pillow tonight. “Fine,” he said with a huff. “We’re together. Is that what you guys needed to hear?”

A chorus of congratulatory hoops and hollers broke out over the breakfast table as Sam muttered to himself, still incredibly flustered. A butter knife clattered loudly onto a plate as Garth fanned himself with a piece of toast slathered in strawberry preserves.

“Our little Sammy’s growing up,” Jo teased with a shit-eating grin on her face. Sam pursed his lips in annoyance, trying desperately to find the words to defend himself. “Well, I’ve never met her, but she must be pretty special to make you blush and stammer on like this.”

Sam plopped back into his chair with a heavy sigh. “She is,” he said, a moony look starting to come over him. He cleared his throat and quickly sobered his expression as he realized what he was doing. “Whatever. See if I care about rehabilitating our image anymore.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Bobby said, interrupting the ‘let’s see how red we can turn Sam’ party with a steady, parental tone. He smiled good-naturedly as the laughter died down enough to hear the clatter of dishes being passed around again. “We’ve embarrassed him enough for one morning. Sam, we’ll all be there with bells on. You can count on it. We’ll set up a rotation for shifts that evening so everyone will have a chance to grab supper and some apple cider.” And just like that, the seriousness was gone, a mischievous grin creeping over Bobby’s face. “And of course, we’ll have someone on duty _at all times_ to make sure those two don’t go sneaking off on their own.”

The table exploded into laughter again now that Bobby had taken care of the important business. Sam sighed in despair and took a long gulp of coffee, making a face that told Dean he needed something a little stronger than caffeine this morning. He tried to feel a little sorry for him, but the truth would have come out sooner or later.

Besides, this festival thing could be fun. A little corn liquor, a little apple bobbing, he was golden. If this turned out half as good as he suspected, they were in for one hell of a night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had never told anyone about that before—had never trusted anyone with that before—but he confided in Castiel. Dean furrowed his brow in concentration. “Why am I even telling you any of this?”
> 
> Castiel gave a small shrug that made Dean even more certain of the other man’s integrity. “I don’t know. But I’ll listen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I apologize for the delay in my update, but I've had a rather busy week. The next one is in progress though, so I will do my best to have it posted sometime next week. Now without further ado, here is chapter 7!

November 2

Even after most of the fruit had fallen to the wayside, the apple orchard smelled just like her. This place never failed to remind Dean of his mother, no matter how much time had passed since he lost her.

Dean had her to thank for his heightened scenting abilities; in fact, it was a trait that ran in the Campbell family, making a strange appearance once every few generations. No one fully understood the mystery behind his talent, but Dean wanted to believe Mary knew somehow what he would grow to be. If only she had lived long enough to see him present. She and John would have been proud to know their firstborn son was not only an omega, but had also inherited the rare ability that enhanced his sense of smell.

At least that’s what Dean told himself. He could barely remember what either of them were like, much less their views on secondary gender roles, and it seemed that with each passing year, his memory grew hazier. That was what scared him the most. Not that he had lost his parents, but that sooner or later, he would forget about them altogether.

A single tear slipped past his lashes, cascading down his cheek where he wiped it away. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore. Not here in the orchard, where everything reminded him of Mary. She always smelled of apples and cinnamon, just like her famous pies that Dean still loved to eat. He was only down this far south once a year, but this is where he felt closest to her.

The orchard was nearly barren of fruit this time of year. Sam instituted an outreach program a few years ago to “better connect with citizens of the community” or some bullshit that allowed people to come in and pick their own fruit every other weekend in September.

If you asked Dean, it didn’t make any sense to let average joes in the gates of a prison just because there also happened to be a farm there too. For all he cared, he would pick every piece of fruit himself and make as many pies as he could shove down his gullet. But when Sam batted his puppy dog eyes, he usually got what he asked for. So for two autumn Saturdays a year, Bobby grudgingly agreed to host an open house where the townspeople could come to pick apples and ask questions.

Mostly it was just a chance for Sam to ease their fears of living a few miles away from the place that “housed hell’s most wanted before they were sent downstairs ahead of schedule.” Not that execution happened very often around here—at least, one hadn’t happened since Dean had been around—but that was all part of the paranoia that came from living in the area.

Several weeks had passed since anyone had been in here to pick apples, and low-hanging, overripe fruit was all that remained. Dean was tempted to reach up and pick one. He craned his neck up and sniffed around the branch just above him. The air wasn’t quite as fresh as he had hoped, but something else seemed to taint the smell of apples—something much sweeter than the slowly-rotting fruit.

It was the unmistakable scent of honey.

He wrinkled his nose in surprise, the smell distracting him enough to raise up in search of its owner. Dean looked in every direction within his line of sight. If Castiel was here, he was doing a decent job of concealing himself. Well, he couldn’t hide his scent from someone like Dean for long. He brushed his face again, making sure it was free of tears before he spoke. “I can smell you, you know,” he said, projecting his voice so Castiel would make no mistake he wasn’t talking to himself.

A defeated sigh exhaled from his left, and Dean couldn’t help but chuckle as he saw a shadow appear at the base of a large apple tree. With crunching leaves and the sound of snapping twigs, Castiel emerged from behind the tree. As he neared, Dean could tell that whatever shame he was feeling, the other man’s humiliation was at least twice as bad. “My apologies,” he said, bowing his head with a sheepish grin. Dean couldn’t stop his cheeks from twitching upward into a smile at the alpha’s apprehension. “I keep forgetting your senses are sharper than most—I mean, I don’t _forget_ , I just didn’t think you would use them on _me_ , so I—”

He didn’t mean to interrupt Castiel’s rambling—it was rather endearing, really—but Dean couldn’t help but fixate on why his colleague was in the orchard to begin with. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Castiel stopped suddenly, taken aback by the question, and pointed through the trees. “I live right over there,” he said simply. Dean looked closer to see that there was, in fact, a small cabin on the edge of the woods, just out of sight from the main trail. Even with many of the trees defoliated for the year, the cabin was concealed from plain view.

Dean swore at himself, rubbing his eyes in frustration. He came here every damn year, and he couldn’t think to remember that a cabin was close by. Now he just felt silly for wanting the post, having never actually been inside the place. Bobby had built it a few years back to use for hunting, but as far as Dean knew, it had never been used until now. Still, it was such a fucking _stupid_ mistake. He should have noticed the thin ringlets of smoke rising out of the chimney. Dean should have smelled that if nothing else, but no, he was too distracted by hanging fruit to be bothered by something that simple.

“Shit, man, I’m so sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Dean started to pull himself from the ground. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I come out here every year.”

The alpha raised his hands quickly in dismissal. “It’s alright. I’m not mad, I was just… curious.”

He decided to ignore Castiel’s interest, but he made no further move to get up. “No, it’s not. I mean, seriously, what if you’d been outside takin’ a piss or something? Wouldn’t that make you a little…” Dean trailed off as he realized that’s exactly what had happened. “Oh. I’m _really_ sorry for being out here without telling you, Cas. I wasn’t sneaking around. I swear, I’m not gunning for the post anymore.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, squatting down closer to Dean at the trunk of the tree. “I don’t exactly have an outhouse here, but when I stepped outside, I thought I heard someone down this way.” When Dean’s guarded expression softened enough to safely sit next to him, Castiel carefully leaned back on a tree root. “So what are you doing out here on your own with nothing to do? Is something bothering you?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Dean scoffed, glancing at the hand that had wiped away a tear. Even if Castiel had missed the physical signs, it was impossible to miss the ‘omega in distress’ scent that must be rolling off of him in waves. With how badly his hormones were raging, Dean wouldn’t doubt Castiel smelled something akin to a battlefield full of gunsmoke. His mother had died when he was only four years old, and he wasn’t entirely sure Castiel would understand why he was still mourning her nearly twenty years later.

Hell, Dean didn’t even know the answer to that one. He just sort of wanted some space to figure it out on his own. “Look, I’m not exactly a sharing and caring kind of person,” Dean said, and with most people that would be end of story, case open and shut. But Castiel didn’t seem to get it. “So if you don’t care…” he added, trying to be as polite as possible.

Well, maybe not _polite_ , but perhaps, not as rude as outright telling him to leave.

Castiel squinted his eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side in a way that did something to Dean’s insides he couldn’t explain. “I do actually,” he said.

Dean knew better than to think someone like Castiel would enjoy sitting on the ground listening to a sob story that shouldn't even bother him anymore. Everyone always wanted him to talk about it and get closure, but the truth was, Dean really didn’t think anyone wanted to listen. You’d have to be nine kinds of crazy to really want to know about all this stuff, and Castiel just didn’t strike him as the ‘sit and talk about your feelings’ kind of guy. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.” Dean shrugged half-heartedly, trying to avert the alpha’s gaze. “It’s just a lame orchard.”

Castiel hummed in response, the vibration sending a chill straight up Dean’s spine. “Then what are you doing here?” he asked.

He knew it was an innocent question, one that Castiel was owed an answer to, but Dean couldn’t help but mumble the reply to the ground.

The omega wouldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t just yet, not until he had gathered every ounce of courage he could muster. Castiel leaned closer to Dean. “What was that?”

“I said it reminds me of my mom, okay?” Dean snapped, glaring at Castiel as if he were daring him to say a word about it.

The alpha retreated from his snarl, and Dean almost felt bad for making him withdraw so quickly. He just wanted him to get up and walk away. “Oh,” Castiel said plainly, still unmoving, but at least a safe distance away now. “I’m sorry.”

The dam inside Dean that had held back the tears since he caught a whiff of honey hiding in the orchard broke as the weight of guilt pressed down on him. Castiel had done nothing to deserve the hell Dean put him through since he arrived. And now here he was on the ground beside him, waiting patiently for Dean to talk about his problems. “For what? It’s not your fault,” he spat through hot tears, struggling to keep his voice even and measured. “You don’t even really know me.”

Even as he said the words, Dean knew they weren’t quite true, but he had still been a complete ass to Castiel. There was no logical reason why he should be here sitting next to him with that awkward half-smile on his face, looking away as Dean tried to brush away his tears.

Castiel turned to face him again, and Dean swallowed the huge lump in his throat. “I never knew my mother. For you to remember yours is something very special.”

Dean deflated almost instantly, heaving a sigh as he rubbed the corners of his eyes. “Great,” he said with a half-hearted laugh. “Now I just feel ungrateful.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel rushed to respond, his hand reaching for Dean’s forearm gently. He bristled at the contact, but didn’t make a move to stop it. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to your mother?”

Dean pursed his lips and glanced at the ground for a moment, but one look back up into those inquisitive blue eyes and his wall of privacy shattered. “She died when I was young. My dad, too. Sam was just a baby. I was only four. Bobby took us in, raised us, trained us. We grew up in the life. No surprise we both took an interest in managing the prison, keeping these sons of bitches in check.” He chuckled quietly, trying to diffuse the tension, but Castiel was still quiet.

He knew the alpha was waiting to hear how it happened. That was the million dollar question Dean had been asking himself since he was four years old, and he knew he would never get a solid answer. “They died in a fire, but nobody knows how it started. My old man was alive long enough to tell me to take Sammy and run. We’ve been here ever since.” He had never told anyone about that before—had never _trusted_ anyone with that before—but he confided in Castiel. Dean furrowed his brow in concentration. “Why am I even telling you any of this?”

Castiel gave a small shrug that made Dean even more certain of the other man’s integrity. “I don’t know. But I’ll listen. Here,” he said, opening his arms and baring his throat for Dean to scent him easier. He hesitated for a moment but couldn’t pass up an invitation to touch Castiel, even just for a few moments.

Dean allowed himself to be wrapped in the alpha's embrace, his hand touching the same spot on his shoulder that he had yesterday. He inhaled the calming scent and felt himself immediately relax into it. “So… why the orchard?” Castiel asked when the omega had settled into his arms.

He took another deep breath and felt his heart rate slow. “She smelled like apples.” Dean closed his eyes, recalling one of the few things he could truly remember about his mother. “And a little like cinnamon sometimes. Apple pie is still my favorite. I just miss her so much, you know?”

While he was talking, Dean hadn’t been fully aware of Castiel’s other hand snaking possessively around his middle, but as the alpha began to run his fingertips across his back, Dean couldn’t help but exhale in relief. He melted into Castiel’s touch, allowing himself to be held in a way that he really didn’t trust anyone enough to hold him.

Against every rule he had ever made in the way of relationships, Dean found himself wrapping around Castiel’s midsection, clinging to the warm embrace like his life depended on it. He nuzzled at the alpha’s chest as if to get closer to him somehow.

A low rumble vibrated through Dean’s ears, startling him in an instant.

That was the very distinctive sound of an alpha—Castiel, he reminded himself—purring in contentment. Dean tensed in surprise, but didn’t completely draw away from him. Castiel coughed uncomfortably, trying to push away the sensation, but it persisted nonetheless. “It’s okay,” Dean said, opening his eyes and removing himself from the alpha’s embrace. “I don’t mind. Thanks for that, Cas. That was… that felt _really_ good. No one’s ever done that for me before.”

“I’m no tracker, but you were definitely under a lot of stress. I’m glad I could help.” Now that they had pulled apart and there were several inches between them, Dean was back to thinking with his forebrain again. Several moments passed before Castiel hesitantly asked, “Would you like to come inside? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest... I just meant—you know, you would probably be more comfortable on furniture than the ground, and—”

Dean smiled at his colleague’s sincerity, still high on his calming pheromones. How had he ever imagined this man was a threat. “Yeah, sure, Cas,” he said with a nod, silencing the alpha’s stuttering. “Why not?”

After Castiel pulled him to his feet, he led Dean to the house at the edge of the woods. Except for the smoke from the chimney, the place appeared to be abandoned from the outside, and the inside wasn’t much better.

Dean could smell all of the dust Castiel had disrupted from living here a few days just by walking through the door. It was only one room, but there seemed to be enough supplies here to last for awhile. There was a cabinet stocked with canned food next to a wood stove and some basic cooking utensils. He glanced at the opposite side of the room to find two chairs, a table, and an empty gun rack. On the far side of the entrance sat the alpha’s personal belongings next to his bed. This was a comfortable living quarters, but Castiel clearly hadn’t made himself at home yet.

Castiel closed the door behind him as he stepped inside to examine further. “Sorry about the dust,” he apologized with a knowing look. “I can smell it too, but I don’t think anyone has ever lived here before.”

Dean shook his head in affirmation, once again turning his attention to the bedside where Castiel’s belongings were still unpacked. “Doesn’t seem like anyone is now either,” he said, his gaze traveling up to the bed. Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. “Damn, Cas, you’ve been holdin’ on me. You’ve got straw and everything.”

He tilted his head to the side in confusion. “You don’t have straw on your bed?” Castiel asked.

“Nah, just a frame with some ropes.” He waved his hand to dispel the alpha’s concern. “It’s all good, though. Better than nothing. I always took the ground when me and Sammy were kids. Then Bobby showed me the basics in the woodshop, and I built a decent frame.”

The alpha’s eyebrows quirked in surprise. “You built your own bed frame?”

“Hell yeah. I mean, it’s nothing fancy, but I carved my initials into it,” Dean replied, plopping into the chair closest to the door. Castiel gave him a skeptical look, and Dean scowled in return. “What? Is that not what a respectable omega should do? Come on, tell me what you really think, Cas.”

He glanced downward thoughtfully, taking a tentative seat across from Dean at the table. “Just the opposite, actually,” Castiel replied. “You’re very… capable, Dean Winchester.”

The omega put his feet on the table, crossing one boot over the other casually. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” he said with a lazy smirk.

Castiel chuckled at his indignation. “You should. I don’t know many adults who are well-adjusted enough to do that, let alone omegas.” He paused, sensing the other man’s discomfort with his phrasing. Dean really didn’t want to fight him on that particular subject anymore, so he settled for giving Castiel a pointed look. “Sorry, I keep saying that like it’s a bad thing,” he said, his lips drawn tightly together.

Dean sighed in frustration, leaning back in the chair comfortably. “I know what you mean. I’ve just… had to take care of a lot of people in my life, and, somewhere along the way, I figured out I had to take care of myself.” He had no hard feelings about his upbringing, but there was a sympathetic glint in Castiel’s eyes that made him uneasy. Dean cleared his throat and tried to think of something else. “Listen, Cas, I know it’s our day off and all, but I thought I should brief you before this shindig at Eileen’s goes down.”

The alpha seemed to welcome a change in tone, but he cocked his head in confusion. “Okay, what for?” he asked.

Dean took one boot off of the table, followed by the other. “Thought we could canvas the locals,” he said, pushing his elbows on the table to mirror Castiel’s position. “We’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”

His colleague nodded in agreement. “I think we’re already on the same page,” he admitted, jumping up from his seat on the armchair to produce a manila folder with the words Milton, Lucifer inscribed on it. Dean eyed the bag at the side of the bed for a third time and wondered how Castiel could have gotten his hands on the file to begin with. “I’ve been doing some reading, and I think this could be our chance to start investigating Lucifer. I know you’re best when you’re tracking, but considering it’s been a couple of weeks, his trail has probably gone cold. We need to start with people in this area.”

He threw the file onto the table in front of Dean and sat in the chair across from him again. “You’re right,” Dean replied, and a week ago, he would’ve kicked himself for saying something like that to Castiel. Not anymore. “He’d need a place to stay if he were on the run. Maybe we could ask if anyone has noticed anything strange in their area, see if he’s holed up somewhere or if he was recently. Odds are he wants out of town, if he’s not already. We could get an idea of where he might be headed.”

Castiel shook his head, clearly not swayed by Dean’s reasoning to look into potential routes out of town and across the county line. “No, we should look into break-ins, missing valuables, that sort of thing,” he said, earning a challenging eyebrow raise from the omega. “He would start small. Everybody and their brother are on the lookout for him.”

Dean wasn’t convinced, still unsure if half of Castiel’s reasoning even made sense. “I haven’t read his file or anything,” Dean admitted, gesturing to the papers in Castiel’s hands, “but getting the hell out of dodge just seems like the thing to do. You really don’t think he would skip town?”

Castiel gestured at Dean to open the file. “No, I don’t. He has no known relatives in the area.” The alpha pursed his lips for a moment before he continued. “But he also can’t buy a train ticket after the stunt he pulled, and as I have recently discovered, people in small towns don’t trust strangers easily.” Dean chuckled at that. He was clearly speaking from experience. “If he’s moving, he’s on foot. He would take it slow, try to slip past everyone’s attention.”

Dean nodded his satisfaction, a little more confident in Castiel’s intuition now that he had more to go on. He flipped open the papers to glance at the contents of the file. “You’ve got one hell of a gut instinct, I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you,” he replied, watching nervously as Dean skimmed the text. It was only a matter of time before the omega realized Lucifer was also from Illinois and started to connect the dots. That couldn’t happen—not yet anyway—not until Castiel was positive he could trust Dean with that kind of information about himself. It was one thing to allow someone to scent you, but it was another to dredge up the family he had left behind all those years ago. “Ahem, so if we’re going to question the locals, who will be on guard duty on the night of the festival? I take it you’re usually not in charge of that.”

Dean looked up from the papers, flipping them shut as Castiel struggled not to sigh in relief. “Well, yeah,” he replied, pushing the file over to Castiel. “Adam usually takes the night shift, sometimes Kevin—still a few of us you haven’t met yet—but there will be rotations for all of us who want to go. Anyway, you don’t have to stand guard if you don’t want to. There’s a tower with good visibility so you can watch the doors and windows, all points of exit. Don’t worry, no one ever escaped that way, it’s just precaution. State says we gotta have eyes and ears on ‘em at all times.”

He thought back to the briefing session in Bobby’s office when the warden had informed him of Lucifer’s untimely escape. He didn’t come here with the intention of hunting his step-brother; he came to make amends, and of course, to work alongside the warden and make sure Lucifer never hurt another living soul. Castiel had spent far too long in the cowardly shadow of honeycombs. He was done being a victim of his past, and it was time to set the record straight.

Castiel nodded vigorously in agreement. “Makes sense,” he said.

“Yeah, Ketch has already volunteered to drive the coach to and from the Leahys,” Dean continued, not missing a beat. “We’ll switch out every once in awhile, get a couple of hours of fun, and there will still be a few people here to hold the fort down.”

“Who’s Ketch?” Castiel asked, trying to recall meeting someone with the name. “I don’t think I’ve met him.”

Dean rolled his eyes sharply, and for a second, Castiel thought he may have asked the wrong question. “Arthur Ketch. British guy. Mountain of dicks. Trust me, you don’t want to know him,” he said with an uneasy laugh. So maybe it wasn’t Castiel, it was just the thought of whoever this Ketch guy was. “Sam takes care of all our public relations, and we shove him in an office to balance the books. You’d think it would be the other way around with the size of my brother’s brain, but I guess anyone is friendlier than that jackass. Anyway, he offered to drive the carriage back and forth for all of us who will be on duty, so I’m calling that a win.”

Castiel paused for a moment. There was something just on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite explain, something that he had been meaning to ask since breakfast yesterday morning but didn’t know when would be a good time. “Wait,” Castiel said, snapping his fingers as the question came to him, “doesn’t the festival only last for a few hours? Sam said it would end at eight.”

Dean scoffed at the idea of leaving any social function at eight o’clock. “Yeah, for all the people who don’t know how to party, Cas. It ‘ends’ at eight.” Castiel squinted in confusion, which Dean only found that much more innocent than leaving a party at eight. He would just have to explain it then. “That’s just what the invitation says so they’ll have some respectable families show up. It’s been awhile since I’ve been to one of these things, but the guests usually stick around until their hangovers wear off. We’ll probably all have to take at least three hour shift just to cover until noon the next day.”

The alpha’s bright blue eyes widened in surprise, and Dean fought the urge to laugh at him. He clearly never learned how to have fun. Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You’re joking, right?” he asked, leaning forward with a hopeful stare.

“I am not,” he said with a hearty laugh. “You ever tried cider and whiskey together? Oh, it’s heavenly. But you’ve gotta knock back like three of ‘em before you stop coughing. Hangover’s a bitch, but I like a good…” Dean trailed off as he noticed Castiel’s scent changing to have the same sour notes as yesterday. “Wait a second…” He was starting to realize why the alpha was so uneasy about this. Castiel stiffened under Dean’s narrowed gaze. “ _No_ , that can’t be. _Really?_ You’ve never had a drink, of anything?”

The alpha shook his head, and Dean grinned wickedly, an impish twinkle in his green eyes. “Well, your virgin liver is about to pop its cherry, my innocent, harmless alpha.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean shook his head absently to answer Castiel’s question. He certainly wouldn’t say no to the alpha stripping on the spot and changing into different clothes, but Dean thought he looked rather handsome in what he was wearing now. “No, no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he mumbled, distractedly running his hand through his hair. He just wanted to grab Castiel’s face with both hands and—
> 
> “Er… Dean?” Castiel asked as Dean’s gaze lingered on the alpha’s lips. They were just so pink and full, he couldn’t help but stare at the way they formed his name. Castiel said something else that he didn’t quite understand, but his mouth looked pretty damn kissable as he said it. “Dean!” he shouted, snapping the omega out of his stupor. “I asked if you were going to wear a coat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I have returned to the land of the living! Settle in, everyone, it's about to get interesting...

November 15

The sharpened edge of a razor blade gently scraped across Dean’s face, leaving the skin beneath soft and smooth. He gripped the handle of the blade tighter and carefully followed the outline his chin. When he was satisfied with his work, Dean set the blade down on the table in front of his mirror. He tilted his head up to the lamp light, inspecting the clean shaven skin with his fingertips.

There, that was much better. 

He didn’t mind a beard when he was only working outside, but public was a different matter altogether. Dean had considered keeping his scratchy facial hair for a little while longer, given that he would soon need the insulation. But this evening, he had just felt…  _ hot _ , and anxious, like if he spent another minute with that damned hair, he would suffocate. 

A knock sounded loudly on the cabin door behind him, startling Dean out of his daze. He jerked his head toward the door, scenting the air around him. His nose tingled with a fruity twinge of peaches.

Jo must be here to light a fire under his ass. Again.

Dean scowled as he yelled through the wooden door. “I’ve already told you I’m almost done,” he shouted, not bothering to open the door for her. “Who the hell shows up to a party on time, anyway?”

Jo didn’t respond, and for a split second, Dean thought she had given up. He paused halfway to the door, unsure of whether or not to open it. Just as he relaxed his guard, she barged into the room, giving him a suspicious once over. She hummed her approval of his clean shaven face, stepping forward to get a closer look. “I liked the scruff, but I gotta admit, you clean up nice.” 

“Jo, I swear, if you don’t start knocking—”

“You’ll what?” She crossed her arms in defiance as if to challenge him, and Dean really wished he could be angry with her. He had almost forgotten how Jo was the little sister he never wanted. One look into her eyes, and Dean knew he could never follow through on a threat. He harrumphed in defeat, turning to face the mirror again. “That’s what I thought. Y’know we’ve gotta leave soon, right?” 

Dean reached for the black tie hanging haphazardly on one of his bedposts. “Mhmm,” he mumbled, swinging one end of cloth around the back of his neck.

He tried to keep a straight face as Jo rubbed her temples in frustration. “Well, could you hurry it up?” she snapped, marching over to the cabin door. “You don’t have to look perfect for your date with Novak. Just get your ass in gear so we can leave already.”

Dean’s hands all but stopped working, fumbling with the cloth between his fingers. His ears pretty much closed over at the phrase  _ date with Novak _ , and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance he would be able to get ready any faster after a comment like that. “Dean,” Jo pressed, grabbing his attention once again. “You hearing me? We’re gonna leave as soon as you’re ready.”

He swallowed hard and forced an affirmative nod, trying desperately to thread the tie into a proper knot. “Yeah,” he rasped. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”

Jo sighed, long and loud, but wordlessly let herself out of the cabin, leaving Dean speechless as she left. He shakily finished the tie around his neck, still playing the words over in his head. 

_ Date with Novak _ . This wasn’t a date. It was a get together they both just happened to be invited to. Why would Jo think it was a date? Not that Castiel wasn’t attractive enough for him to date. The guy was so hot, Dean was pretty sure he could melt butter by standing too close to it. And sure, he had caught himself scenting the alpha a few times, but that was nothing. That really didn’t make spending time together a date.

He jumped at the sound of knuckles rapping on the wood paneling again. Dean growled under his breath and stood to open the door himself this time. “For the last time, Jo, I said I’ll be there in a min— _ Whoa _ .” Dean’s mouth fell open at the sight of Castiel standing in his doorway. 

The alpha had trimmed his dark facial hair to a close, even length and was once again in the formal attire he’d worn on his first day at the prison. His white collared shirt was tucked neatly into his trousers with a reversed blue necktie resting adorably against his chest. Dean smirked, his fingers itching to correct the alpha’s mistake, but stopped at the first whiff of his scent. His nose burned with a smell he couldn’t recognize. 

Castiel must be wearing some kind of cologne, or perhaps he used a different soap. Either way, the very thought of not being able to scent him annoyed Dean. He should be able to smell his alpha from yards aw—wait, he really just thought of Castiel as  _ his _ . Dean’s smile faded quickly, as if that would banish those thoughts from his mind. Castiel was just a colleague, maybe a friend. Nothing more than a close friend. A close friend who let Dean scent him when he was stressed and was absolutely gorgeous in a backwards tie.

But that didn’t make him  _ Dean’s _ alpha.

He just wanted more than anything to feel the silk of that tie against his fingertips, to tear it from his collar and hear it splat against the ground as Dean buried his face in the alpha’s neck. It might take a few licks to get down to his real scent, but Dean was willing to do just about anything to get the faintest hint of honey again. 

Castiel spread his arms and glanced down at himself in confusion. His gaze turned to Dean, eyes filled with far too much innocence to be an alpha his age. “Is something wrong?” he asked, anxiously straightening his already pristine coat. “You said the dress was formal.”

Dean struggled to tear his eyes away from Castiel’s throat, his primal instincts screaming at him to bite, mate, fuck, anything to claim the alpha as his own. “Yeah, Class A’s,” Dean said dazedly, dragging his gaze up to meet the alpha’s expectant stare. Holy fucking hell, Jo was right. She was unbelievably, undeniably right. 

It might not be a date yet, but Dean sure as hell wanted it to be.

He squinted at Dean as if he was reading a fine print manuscript, cocking his head to the left in curiosity. “Is this not suitable for the festival? I can change if I need to.”

Dean shook his head absently to answer Castiel’s question. He certainly wouldn’t say no to the alpha stripping on the spot and changing into different clothes, but Dean thought he looked rather handsome in what he was wearing now. “No, no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he mumbled, distractedly running his hand through his hair. He just wanted to grab Castiel’s face with both hands and—

“Er… Dean?” Castiel asked as Dean’s gaze lingered on the alpha’s lips. They were just so pink and full, he couldn’t help but stare at the way they formed his name. Castiel said something else that he didn’t quite understand, but his mouth looked pretty damn kissable as he said it. “Dean!” he shouted, snapping the omega out of his stupor. “I asked if you were going to wear a coat.”

Dean shrugged, looking down at his clothes. He wore dress pants and a long-sleeved button up that he would likely want to strip out of by the end of the night anyway. “Nah, I’m good.”

The other man looked at him skeptically. “It’s November,” Castiel said, as if stating the month was going to change Dean’s mind about something like this.

He wouldn’t need a coat with how hot he already was, and the sheer number of people at the party would give off enough body heat to stay warm. Besides, he’d rather not tell Castiel the real reason why his temperature was higher than usual. Dean shrugged again, trying to be more convincing this time. “Relax, Cas, I’ll be fine.”

Castiel quizzically reached his hand up to cover Dean’s forehead, his brow furrowing at the unexpected result. “Dean, you must have a fever or something.” He leaned away from the alpha’s hand, brushing Castiel away with an uneasy chuckle. “I’m sure Jody wouldn’t mind taking a look at you before we leave,” he tried, but no amount of persuasion was going to make Dean do that. Not for something as simple as a preheat.

“No,” Dean shouted quickly. Castiel gave him a pointed look, but he cleared his throat and pushed on as if it hadn’t happened. “No, um, let’s just get moving. Jo’s already been here harassing me. God knows we don’t want to keep  _ her _ waiting. C’mon.” Dean moved toward the exit, pushing Castiel backwards as he closed the door behind himself. He thankfully followed without question, swallowing his concern as he walked down the trail with the omega at his side. 

That was close. That was too fucking close. He would have to be more careful the rest of the evening if he wanted to survive without tarnishing his reputation. Dean knew what was making him feel feverish, why he was so on edge, why he was daydreaming about seizing Castiel and sucking a mark on his neck when he was walking right next to him. But that didn’t matter. Not tonight. They had a job to do, and Dean would be damned if he let his impending heat get in the way of his work.

But before he could get around to doing any work—or partying, for that matter—he needed to meet Eileen Leahy. 

Technically speaking, he already had already met her, but considering how long ago that had been, Dean doubted she even remembered him. He owed it to Sam to be polite and welcome her into the family. Maybe he could even point out that harvest ended a couple of weeks ago and offer pointers for next year—no, that might be overstepping it a bit, even for him. Still, he could at least thank her for inviting them to the harvest festival to begin with. 

The problem was, he had no idea who to look for once he was settled in the crowded parlor room full of people, and there were  _ far _ too many people—people talking and eating around tables, people ordering drinks from a makeshift bar, even people dancing in the center of the room. Dean couldn’t help but keep time with the music, tapping his foot rhythmically against the table leg. There was no way in hell he was dancing in front of this many people because if his preheat wasn’t enough,  _ that _ would be too embarrassing. There were just so many damned people.

He didn’t even know what he was expecting Eileen to look like. As he searched the faces in the crowded room, his vision started to swim. Just like in the train station, Dean tried to breathe as shallowly as possible and find something to concentrate on, a color, a voice, a scent. Hell, just the smell of food helped sometimes.

Dean exhaled in relief when his brother suddenly grabbed his arm, grounding his senses that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

All of the tension drained out of him at the sight of Sam’s face lighting up in excitement. “Hey, you up for meeting an old friend?” Dean nodded, grateful to know that even when he was too stubborn to ask for help, his little brother always knew when he needed it. Sam stood to his full height to get a better vantage point of the room. He scanned the crowd quickly and pointed to the bar. “Okay, see the one with brown hair in a braid? That’s her.” Sam stared at her with the same dreamy look that had overtaken him at breakfast several weeks ago. “God, she’s beautiful tonight, isn’t she?”

Dean sighed in exasperation at his brother’s puppy dog eyes. Sam had always been the idealistic one, but damn if Dean didn’t wish he could have that with someone. To perk up every time they walked in a room, to feel like you were floating every time they touched you—Dean swore that he reached maximum sappiness right before his heat. That was the only explanation for the crazy thoughts he was having today.

Even so, he was proud of Sam. The last time he had seen Eileen, she had been a young girl in dark pigtails and overalls, playing with them and a few other children when they were younger. The woman standing across the room from him was far from what he remembered. She looked so strong and regal and not at all what Dean pictured her to look like after all these years. Her braid hung loosely, curving around her shoulder to fall past the neckline of her white dress. She smiled at something that was said, and Dean had to agree with his brother; she looked radiant tonight.

A hand tugged him out of his seat, and Sam led him around the room full of people to where Eileen was sitting on a stool, chatting with the bartender. Dean was quite surprised to notice as he approached that the woman behind the counter was blind. Sam approached them slowly, making sure both women were able to sense the two of them before he gently placed his hands around Eileen’s shoulders. 

She turned around to face them fully, beaming at the sight of Sam, and Dean had to admit they looked really cute when they were happy to see each other. He had never seen his brother this happy before, and really, that was the most important thing.

Sam pulled away so Eileen could read his lips, still resting one hand on her shoulder. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” he began, looking up at the bartender as he gestured to Dean standing behind him, “but I’d like to re-introduce you to my brother, Dean. Dean, meet my girlfriend, Eileen Leahy.”

She greeted him with a polite smile and an enthusiastic wave of her hand. “Hi, Dean, it’s nice to see you again.” She nodded at the woman across the counter. “While we’re introducing everyone, I’d like for you to meet Pamela. She’s the best barkeep in town.”

Pamela brushed aside the praises with a flippant wave of her hand. “Oh, she’s too sweet,” she said, turning to face Eileen directly again. “I appreciate the flattery, but I’ll have to talk to you later. I’ve got to get these glasses cleaned and dried before the next wave comes in.”

Eileen gave a silent nod and waved good-naturedly as Pamela left the three of them at the counter. She must be very familiar with this place to be so comfortable moving around here. Well, Eileen said she was the best bartender in town. Then again, maybe she had some sort of psychic instinct about spatial stuff like that.

Before Dean had a chance to ask, he suddenly caught Eileen’s scent, and it was as if all the puzzle pieces from the past several weeks fell into place. 

He furrowed his brow in curiosity, taking a deep breath just to be sure. As he suspected, Eileen smelled of clean laundry and something else that took Dean a second to place—fresh cotton. Of course, it made so much sense now. She was obviously the reason Sam had been smelling so different lately. Dean turned toward his brother and gave him a sly smirk. “So  _ this _ is why you’ve been so sneaky lately.” 

Dean beamed up at his little brother, delighted that his nose had allowed him to figure out the mystery. “ _ Dean _ .” 

“No, I get it. She’s nice.” Honestly, he was really proud of Sam. He had only just met the girl, but Eileen was already twenty times better than Ruby. And if they had already started scent marking each other, it had to be pretty serious. 

“ _ She _ is standing right here,” Eileen interrupted, rising from her seat at the bar to properly offer a handshake. Dean looked at her with delighted surprise, but Sam’s death glare out of the corner of his eye told him if he didn’t shake the woman’s hand, he might rip it off and beat him with it. “What?” she asked defensively. “I’m deaf, but I can tell when I’m being talked about in third person.”

When Dean let go of her hand, he immediately apologized for his behavior. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he began, “I’m extremely sensitive to smell, and I noticed something off about my brother a few weeks ago. I think I’m starting to understand, it’s because of—”

“O–kay,” Sam said with a shaky laugh, wanting the conversation as far away from his sex life as he possibly could. “That’s—that’s enough, Dean. You two can have all the fun you want at my expense later. Let’s just, y’know, enjoy each other's’ company tonight. I know Dean’s looking forward to sampling every pie you have on hand.”

He nodded vigorously at that, his gluttony for pie surpassing his brotherly duty to embarrass Sam. Eileen frowned. “That’s going to have to wait. Sam tells me you and Castiel are investigating Lucifer. I can’t say that I know what’s going on, but I know a few people who would like to speak with you.”

Dean’s face lit up with excitement. That was fantastic. That was actually the best damn news he’d heard all night. He needed something going for him on a night like this. “That’s great! Can we meet with them while we’re here? Cas is just over there with Benny,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to where he had left them to follow Sam.

Her eyes were fixated on something just behind him. “Absolutely,” Eileen replied, her gaze moving to follow what Dean suspected was a person behind him. He turned to see who she was looking at to find an older woman approaching them. “As a matter of fact… here is one of them now. Mildred, this is Dean Winchester, the guard who works at the prison. Dean, this is my Aunt Mildred. She may know a few things that could help you with your investigation.” Eileen turned her attention back to Dean and lowered her voice. “I’ll make sure Castiel gets a chance to speak with a few others as well.”

Dean nodded in understanding and looked over at Mildred once again. “Thank you, dear, I’ll tell him everything I know,” she said, patting her niece’s arm in a manner that told Eileen she would like some privacy. 

As she and Sam politely excused themselves, Dean allowed Mildred to lead him to the patio furniture along the the side of the room. He took a seat in an old wooden rocking chair across from Mildred and listened as she began to speak. “Well, my courting days are behind me, but you are a fine young gentleman.”

Dean mentally smacked himself. Well, obviously you're courting days are over if you still call them  _ courting days _ . “How did someone as handsome as you get into this business?” Oh, boy, small talk. He just loved when a conversation with a stranger got so awkward and polite that he couldn’t just come out and say what he needed.

Well, he may as well humor this old woman if she might have some answers. What the hell, why not talk a little about himself for a change? “Yeah, it’s not the most glamorous job in the world,” he admitted, and if that wasn’t the damn truth, he didn’t know what was. This was probably the cleanest Dean had been in a solid week, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the work. “But it’s the life I know, it’s something I’m good at. And right now... it’s about to drive me crazy, knowing I let that son of a bitch get away.”

“I don’t know much about him, but he can’t be a very good man, can he?”

“No, he is not,” Dean agreed. Here was his chance to direct the conversation. He would never get anything out of this woman if he let her wander around what she needed to tell him. “Now, Eileen told me you may know something related to our search for Lucifer Milton. Have you seen or heard of anything strange recently?”

Mildred paused to collect her thoughts before she spoke again. “As a matter of fact, I have,” she said with a small nod and a worried brow. Mildred pointed to her left. “I don’t live far from here, just about four miles that way. The other day I heard something out by my woodshed, and when I went to see what it was, there was a man standing there with long gray hair and a beard.”

Dean pursed his lips as he listened to Mildred’s story. The man could easily be Lucifer in disguise, but Dean dismissed that theory as quickly as he thought of it. Lucifer was too proud to go for a practical solution like that. Maybe he had an accomplice helping him hide in plain sight. That would explain why no one had heard anything from him. There was also the glaringly obvious possibility that what Mildred had told him was completely unrelated to the escape, and he was wasting his time with this. Dean leaned his elbows against the table, resisting the strain in his chest to sigh in boredom.

“I had never seen the man, but he just needed a few pieces of firewood to hold him over until he could cut some more. He seemed pretty honest, so I let him take what he needed. I don’t know who he was, but when Eileen told me there were people investigating an inmate’s escape, I thought it might have something to do with that. Oh, dear, you don’t think that man was your prisoner, do you? I didn’t get his name.”

He shook his head, hoping to assuage her fears. Even in the weeks since his escape, Lucifer wouldn’t have time to change his appearance that much. And he was so arrogant, Dean was almost certain he would’ve gotten violent with Mildred instead of asking for firewood if he was caught. “No, ma’am, that doesn’t sound like Lucifer to me,” Dean said, wincing as the older woman’s face fell. “I’ll look into it, though. I don’t really know, there might be something there. Thank you for your time, though.”

Mildred brightened a little as Dean pushed his chair backwards and stood across from her. “Oh, no problem, honey,” she chirped, “us omegas gotta stick together.”

Now  _ that _ caught his attention. 

It was completely irrelevant to the case, but it piqued his interest. Mildred smirked under his suspicious gaze. “Really?” Dean asked. “You were an omega?”

“Oh, don’t sound so surprised,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. She touched her nose with her index finger. “I don’t have quite as sensitive of a nose as I used to, but I still know that smell anywhere. Besides, yours is so strong, it must be driving everyone your age crazy.”

“I should—I should probably go,” Dean stuttered, pointing over his shoulder and across the room. If Mildred could tell he was getting closer to his heat, Dean knew Castiel would be able to scent it as well. He needed to relay everything Mildred had told him before his heat struck him full force. “I need to talk to my partner.”

Mildred’s eyes widened as she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, goodness, are you mated?” she asked in wonder. “I hadn’t realized—”

“No!” Dean squeaked, eager to correct her mistake. He took a step backward. “Not that kind of partner, actually.” It was just a slip of the tongue, a misunderstanding—like mentally calling Castiel his alpha—it didn’t actually mean anything. 

“The other man investigating the escape, Castiel Novak, is assigned to work with me indefinitely. At least until we clean up this thing with Lucifer.” Oh, God, Dean needed to get out of here before he said anything else he would regret. “Anyway, thanks again, Mildred. I’ll see what we can do about all of this, and we’ll kick it in the ass as soon as possible.”

He bowed his head in a silent goodbye to the woman, backing away as quickly as he could. When he made it a few steps away from the dance floor, Dean turned and bolted for the wall of the room. He always felt safer when he could see everyone around him, and with nothing left to distract him from the melting pot of scents in the room, Dean needed to regroup and get his bearings.

What he didn’t expect, however, was to find Castiel in the corner of the room, a few feet away from him. Relief washed over Dean as he saw the alpha leaning against the wall. 

Castiel perked up as he approached. “Did you get anything?” he asked, promptly stealing the words right out of his mouth. 

Dean shrugged, sighing in exasperation and defeat. “Not really,” he admitted, eyeing Castiel’s throat hungrily. It was nice to have something to focus on. He just wished he could scent him properly. Dean glanced back up at him, trying to conceal where he had been looking. “Just a neighborhood bum stealing some firewood. It’s probably nothing.”

Castiel leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “I didn’t get anything either,” he said bitterly. Dean licked his lips and bit down on the inside of his jaw to keep from pressing against him right there. He swallowed hard as Castiel opened his eyes again. “Although, I did have an elderly woman who is friends with Miss Leahy confuse me for her deceased husband.” The omega grinned at him. Who  _ wouldn’t _ want Cas as their husband? “— _ and _ another young lady referred to me as ‘Clarence’ for the entirety of our conversa— _why are you laughing?_ Dean, it’s not funny.”

He tried to sober his features for Castiel’s sake. “Oh, c’mon, don’t take it personal,” he said, still laughing half-heartedly. “Eileen’s aunt, Mildred, told me a man came by her house the other day looking for firewood. She didn’t describe him like Lucifer, though, so I don’t know…” Dean trailed off as a thought suddenly struck him like a ton of bricks. Mildred had described the man as having long gray hair and a beard. He didn’t know for certain, but if there was even a slight chance, they needed to investigate. “Wait a second—I have an idea.”

“That’s great,” Castiel exclaimed, standing to attention for what Dean would say next. “Do you think he’s in disguise or something?”

Dean shook his head to dispel that theory before he spoke. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before. If Lucifer is still in town—and at this point, I’m starting to think he might be—then he would want to bunk with someone he knows, maybe even trusts.”

The alpha shifted uncomfortably in his seat, somehow a little less enthusiastic than he was a few moments ago. “But I thought we had established he has no family here,” Castiel said, “You think he has an ally?”

“I know he does. There was a prisoner, Cain, who was released a few years ago,” Dean began, doing his best to recall details about the man. He had only worked there for a few months when Cain got out, but Dean couldn’t quite remember what he was in for. Whatever he was charged with, it was serious to be locked away on a prison farm for twenty years. Castiel looked at him quizzically as he continued. “Mildred described the man outside her house as having gray hair and a beard. I barely remember Cain, to be honest, but he was pretty old and he would probably have long hair now. Didn’t think he would stick around once he served his time, but Lucifer was pretty good buddies with him. I know it’s a long shot, but we don’t have anything else to go on, y’know?”

Castiel nodded, and Dean tried not to preen too much as the alpha hummed in agreement. “That’s a good place to start,” was all Dean heard him say. The only thing he could think of now was Castiel, hungrily staring at his lips as the alpha rambled on about a search party or Mildred or something Dean couldn’t bring himself to care about at the moment. He just wanted to know how Castiel would feel pressed against him, his tongue intertwined with his own, as Dean drowned in the scent of pure, sweet, sourwood honey.

He cursed his omega hindbrain for what it did to his body.

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean mumbled under his breath, searching for the entrance of the room. He needed to get out of here and get some air before he said something stupid to Castiel—or worse,  _ did _ something stupid. “Is it hot in here? I think it’s hot in here. I’m gonna—I’m gonna go outside.” 

“Dean, are you alright?” 

“What?” he asked dazedly, his eyes trained completely on the door. Nothing was going to stop him from getting out of here. Not even the winding hallway from the parlor room to the back door. Dean needed to get away for a few minutes, collect his thoughts, and maybe make it through the night in one piece.

Even as fresh, nighttime air exploded across Dean’s face, his feverish skin refused to cool. He drew in a ragged breath, shallow and uneven, grateful that no one else was around behind the house. 

He couldn’t ignore his heat anymore.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut tight and willed himself to focus on anything other than the slick gathering around his hole. It was getting harder to concentrate on anything other than public humiliation. He was going to have to go back inside sooner or later, if nothing else but to warn Sam not to come home tonight—or at least, not back to the cabin.

“Dean.” A shiver went down his spine as he heard a familiar gravelly voice from behind. Castiel must have followed him outside. The omega whimpered as a tight heat coiled just below his stomach. 

He turned at the sound of Castiel’s voice to find the alpha standing in front of him, blue eyes wide with concern. So much for making it through tonight in one piece.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need to get you into bed,” the alpha said suddenly, causing Dean to nearly choke on the last gulp of water. He sputtered and coughed, setting the tin can on the table next to the pie. Well, he certainly didn’t have any objections to that request. When he looked up, he found Castiel’s eyes wide and his skin flushed pink as he realized the implication of his phrasing. “I mean, to bed,” he corrected, trying to look anywhere but directly at Dean. The poor guy just didn’t know how to quit while he was ahead. He stuttered around the phrase until Dean put a stop to the nonsense. “I mean—nngh.”
> 
> A strangled moan escaped his throat before Castiel relaxed into the omega’s kiss. Dean snaked his hands around the alpha’s neck, drawing him in closer, pressing their bodies flush against one another. He tangled a hand in Castiel’s hair and tugged gently, relishing in the sweet noises the alpha made in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So NSFW. Hope it was worth the wait ;)

November 15

Beads of sweat collected along Dean’s brow as he paced back and forth across the porch. His breath quickened as he glanced up at Castiel again, this time stopping in his tracks to stare at the alpha who was frozen in place. Holy shit, this couldn’t be happening to him.

Dean loosened the tie from around his shirt collar, pulling the cloth away from his neck in a desperate attempt to get more air. Castiel was silent as he watched Dean unfasten the top two buttons of his shirt, staring at the exposed flesh in bewilderment. He licked his lips absentmindedly, trying to find the words to talk to the distressed omega in front of him.

“Dean,” Castiel tried a second time, putting as much calming authority into his tone as possible. A wave of warmth surged through Dean’s slick channel at the sound of the alpha’s voice. Oh, this was going to be much harder than he anticipated. “You need to go home,” he said gently, taking tentative steps toward him.

Dean forced a weak smile, trying desperately to ignore his growing arousal. “Sorry I skipped out on you, Cas,” he said, nearly panting at the energy it took to restrain himself from acting on his primal urges.

The alpha looked at Dean as if he could see straight through him. All the posturing and the lies were just an act, an act that afforded Dean some sense of normalcy on most days, but was nothing more than a flimsy excuse tonight. Castiel stared at him expectantly, like he was waiting on Dean to explain himself.

But the answers never came.

Mostly, because Dean couldn’t come up with a decent explanation that didn’t include how devastatingly handsome Castiel looked tonight.

He moved close enough to comb through Dean’s short hair, grooming the omega under the delicate touch of his fingers. “You are, by far, the most stubborn human being I have ever met,” Castiel growled, brushing the sweat from Dean’s forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re going through a heat, which means you’re going to get sick if you stay out in the cold with a fever for long. Yes, even a hotheaded alpha knows that,” he snipped at Dean’s slack jawed expression.

Of all the reactions Castiel could have had, this was certainly the most unexpected. He supposed it wasn’t that hard to miss. Mildred had told him how strong his scent was, but then again, she was quite familiar with the smell of omega in heat. Still, Dean thought it should have some sort of effect on Castiel. Most alphas would have already jumped at the chance to stick their knot in a nice, fertile omega, but something seemed to be holding Castiel back from that ledge.

He straightened to his full height when he finished grooming Dean to look him straight in the eyes. “I am taking you home before this gets any worse,” Castiel commanded, his voice in full-on alpha mode now that the person in his care had calmed down enough to stand still and was just confused enough to listen.

Dean didn’t even have the strength to argue with him tonight either. As much as he wanted to stay at the festival, he really needed to work through his heat in the privacy of his cabin for a couple of days.

So much for taking a search party out to look into Mildred’s story tomorrow. Dammit, now he wasn’t even going to get to see Castiel spew his first shot of hard alcohol across the counter of the bar. Dean sighed in frustration as he suddenly realized he hadn’t even had a chance to eat. That was definitely going to come back to bite him in the ass.

As if Castiel could read his mind, he said, “I know it’s important to keep your strength up, so if you need something to eat, I can go inside and get whatever you want to take home. You don’t have to go back in, if you don’t want to,” he added, turning halfway to face the door.

For everything that seemed to be going wrong in Dean’s life tonight, at least he had someone like Castiel to take care of him. He nodded vigorously, trying to mask his look of desperation. “Can you bring me back some pie?”

“Pie?” Castiel repeated. He assumed Dean would want a hot meal from the kitchen, but if that was what he wanted, Castiel was more than happy to get a slice of the delectable dessert for him. “Yes, of course, I’ll meet you out front in a few minutes.” With that, the alpha ducked back into the house, leaving Dean to trudge his way around to the front walk by himself.

He stayed in the shadows, away from the probing ears and prying eyes of guests who could observe him. Dean was embarrassed enough as it was at his situation. He had carefully crafted his image in the years since he started working at the prison, and he didn’t want someone walking in or out of the house to recognize him and start spreading rumors.

It was his responsibility to be at this festival, just as he was supposed to take a shift in the guard tower later tonight, and nothing should have stood in his way. Not even his hormones that told him to give in to his heat and have a little fun while he still could, before he was too sore and worn out to want any more sex.

Dean’s mouth watered just thinking about all the wild, crazy, kinky sex he could have with a certain shy and socially awkward, yet equally as charming, alpha. He shook his head, trying desperately to block out those thoughts before Castiel returned. The least he could do was try to stay professional with the guy.

Besides, he had never even been with an alpha, or a man, for that matter, but the latter wasn’t the part that gave Dean the most trouble. He had certainly been turned on by the women he dated in the past, but something about picturing Castiel naked got him hot and bothered, too. He just figured whatever worked _worked_ , and that one was going under the ‘ain’t broke’ column. Still, for all of his desire, there was still something about the guy’s mysterious _alpha_ -ness that left him clueless.

What did he know about alphas? Just because his hole pulsed in anticipation at the thought of a knot swelling to fill him up didn’t mean Dean actually knew what he was doing with an alpha. There were a hundred things that could possibly go wrong, and as much as it terrified him to think of doing anything that would disappoint his alpha, Dean wanted it. More than anything else right now, he wanted to be knotted.

And damn it all to hell, he just did it again! Castiel was _not_ his alpha. Not his alpha. Not his alpha. Dean repeated this silently to himself, hoping against hope that this would all pass over once his heat subsided in about three days.

His heat was quickly getting more intense, demanding that he relieve himself of sexual tension before his groin spontaneously combusted. Dean caught sight of Castiel in the dim lighting of the entryway, and thanked whatever guardian angel watching over him that he returned when he did. Maybe he could at least take Dean’s mind off of his worries for now. Now all that was left to do was… wait, yet again.

A smile that Dean didn’t even know he had faded from his lips as he realized how much longer they may be waiting on Ketch to arrive with their ride back to the prison. Castiel seemed to have noticed his distressed scent, jogging to close the distance between the two of them faster. Since Castiel went inside to retrieve Dean’s pie, dutifully wrapped and resting in the crook of his arm, the air outside had chilled considerably. Enough to leave puffs of fog as the alpha spoke. “Dean, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he rasped in response, sniffing the contents of the wrapping. A very distinctive piece of pecan and another slice, perhaps apple was inside. Dean sighed into the scent, watching his breath disappear in the cold air. “I’m golden.”

He followed Castiel even further into the shadows, where the alpha set the wrapped slices of pie down in the cradle of a tree. The fork marked the beginning of two branches in the scrubby tree, but the pie nestled between them nicely. Now that his hands were free, Dean selfishly wished they were on him and roaming every inch of his body.

He needed to think of something else—and fast. Distractions normally helped, but out here in the dark, where Castiel was his only focus, Dean couldn’t stop himself from indulging his primal fantasies.

The only thing that really calmed him down was what they had done in the orchard the other day.

That was a horrible idea. That was a _horrible_ idea, given the circumstances, but the alpha didn’t move away from his proximity when Dean leaned in close. “Do you mind?” he asked, pointing at Castiel’s throat.

He bared his throat to Dean in response, and the omega eagerly buried his nose at the base of his neck. Castiel easily welcomed him into his arms, allowing Dean to nuzzle into the him further. When a pair of strong arms circled around him, Dean felt the tension in his muscles drain away as he covered himself in what should be warm, drizzling honey.

Dean almost growled in frustration when he realized Castiel’s scent was still missing. Dammit, just when he thought his night was starting to improve.

The absence of a scent triggered something primal in Dean to whine with want. His hindbrain wasn’t satisfied without the alpha’s calming pheromones. His tongue flicked outward gently to swipe across the alpha’s bared skin. The salt of his dried sweat mixed with something bitter and unfamiliar. It left him with an insatiable curiosity as to what lay beneath.

He planted three sloppy kisses along Castiel’s scent glands, the alpha writhing at his touch. Dean was high within seconds. What he had uncovered was so much more than the regular, run-of-the-mill smell of honey—it was the warm, delicious scent of an alpha in rut. His lips instinctively latched onto the other man’s neck, desperate to give him exactly what he needed.

Castiel pulled away a few inches, his arms still loosely embracing Dean. Even in the omega’s heat-addled mind, he knew Castiel was in far too much control to be an alpha in rut.

But Dean’s nose didn’t lie. It was never wrong, that was what he prided himself on. So if his instincts told him Castiel was in rut, then it was most definitely correct, no matter how many unanswered questions he still had.

“Don’t do that,” Castiel chided, palming his neck with one hand to try and cover up his scent again, “it’ll all wear off. It’s called a scent blocker. I use it when I go into rut so I don’t distract other people.” Yeah, bang up job so far. Even as the alpha gave up and slung his other arm around Dean again, he found himself drifting closer and closer to the scent. He had to say, it was pretty damn distracting. “I also take medicine to ease the effects of rut for myself, especially when it comes unexpectedly—I wasn’t supposed to be due for another until Christmas.”

Dean almost wanted to feel guilty about that, but the only thing he could muster was pride. He was positive that his oncoming heat triggered this early rut, and if that wasn’t biology trying to tell Dean something, he didn’t know what was.

The omega let a possessive growl escape his throat, low and threatening enough for Castiel to loosen his grip around him. “That scent thing, I don’t like it,” he grumbled, craning his neck down to press his face deep against the alpha’s skin.

This time, the scent of honey enveloped him in a calming embrace. One deep breath after another, and his anger evaporated, fading into a need to reassure the alpha. “I really like your scent, Cas,” he mumbled into his skin. “Hell, I love it. And just when I’m in heat, you go and cover it all up with that. Stupid. Fucking. Locker.” He pushed Castiel back against the tree, punctuating each word with a press of his lips against the alpha’s scent gland.

“B-Blocker,” he corrected, struggling to fight his own instincts. Dean had to say, he was doing a pretty good job of controlling himself. Then again, Castiel didn’t seem like the type of person to let his hormones rule his actions.

But oh, the things that sweet, succulent smell did to him. Dean growled again in frustration, pressing his growing erection against Castiel. “I don’t care,” he said, his lips trailing up from the alpha’s shoulder to the base of his ear. He would lay claim to this scent if it was the last thing he ever did. “You don’t ever need to hide it from me.”

The alpha whimpered as Dean nipped lazily just under his ear. “Dean,” Castiel said warningly, but it was too late. He had already heard it, the familiar sound from the orchard the other day when Dean had scented him before. The low rumble down in Castiel’s chest was stronger now. He sucked in a jagged breath as the omega’s hand brushed against the crotch of his pants. “You can’t—we shouldn’t do this is public,” Castiel sputtered through the vibration of his purring. Dean just ignored him, continuing to suck a bruise on the alpha’s collar. “I could—I could never forgive myself, if I—if I took advantage of you.”

The omega paused, pulling away just enough to examine Castiel’s face in the moonlight. He was straining against his rut in an effort to stay responsible, but the erection pressing against his hip told him Castiel was minutes away from giving in. A wave of heat surged through his groin for the second time tonight at the thought of stripping down and letting Castiel take him, right here, right now.

Thankfully, before Dean could do something that would end in public indecency charges, he caught a reflection of light in Castiel’s eyes.

Dean turned to see what they had been waiting on all along—a way back to the prison. He swallowed hard, trying to steel his nerves before he had to face Ketch. It took every ounce of strength and self control that Dean had left to keep a respectable distance between he and Castiel as the alpha grabbed the pie from the tree and led him down the dirt path.

When they approached the man who had driven the cart was already out of the driver’s seat and ready to tie the horses to the hitching post. “Excellent timing, Mister Ketch,” Castiel began, jogging just a bit to announce his presence before he could start tying off the horses. “My name is Castiel Novak—”

“I know who you are,” the man replied shortly, giving his sex hair and slightly disheveled appearance a once over. He gingerly placed the oil lamp he was holding back on the cart. “What do you want?”

“Would you mind giving us a ride back to the farm?” he asked, gesturing over to Dean sympathetically. “My colleague here seems to have come down with something, and I’d like to get him home as soon as possible.” Dean took that as his cue to cough unconvincingly, doing his best not to look Ketch straight in the eyes.

As a beta, there was a chance he wouldn’t even be able to smell the thick scent of their arousal, but the way he looked at them made Dean uneasy. His beady eyes could stare into anyone’s soul and judge their deepest secrets with no remorse. Ketch frowned at them skeptically, pausing for a few moments before he responded. “Very well,” he said, his tone tight and clipped at the slight inconvenience of returning to the farm early.

As they climbed onto the bench of the cart, Dean gratefully settled against Castiel’s chest, nuzzling into the safety of the alpha’s warm, comforting scent.

For the life of him, Dean couldn’t remember why he had ever despised the man beside of him, and that wasn’t just the heat talking. If anything, his heat had stripped away Castiel’s inhibitions and revealed his true nature.

He wasn’t bent on exploiting Dean’s weaknesses or replacing him or even taking advantage of him when it would be the simplest thing in the world. He was kind and protective and considerate and smelled so fucking delicious that it should be illegal. He moved his hand to rest on the alpha’s thigh, and Dean smirked at the reaction he got out of Castiel.

“Mister Ketch, do you—do you mind taking us, um, an—an extra mile or so down the trail until we reach a cabin,” Castiel stumbled over his words, desperately trying to steel his gravelly voice. It didn’t work. Ketch may not have heard it, but Dean definitely did. With one ear pressed against Castiel’s chest, the omega allowed himself to relax into the sound of his contented purring. The alpha may know exactly how to control himself, but the low rumble emanating from his chest was proof he couldn’t hide his arousal entirely. Dean ran a teasing hand up and along his inner thigh, causing Castiel to draw in a quick breath. “I want to… I want to make sure Dean is, um, comfortable before I take my shift this evening.”

Ketch didn’t even glance back in their direction, eyes trained on the path ahead of them. “I see,” he replied dully, flicking his wrist with a satisfying smack of the reins against the horses. “And may I ask if this is personal or professional?”

Castiel started to answer, but was quickly cut off by Dean’s cutting remark. “No, you may not,” he snapped, lowering his head back down to rest against Castiel’s chest.

The truth was they were starting to blur the lines. As much as Dean wanted to hold the man at arm’s length and insist on keeping their friendship strictly business, his body craved otherwise. His baser instincts told him to trust Castiel, to care about him, maybe even love him, and if that didn’t scare the living hell out of him, nothing did. Dean wasn’t used to that level of intimacy, with anyone, but if his body demanded, he was damn sure going to let himself have something—or someone—he needed.

When they finally reached the cabin nearby the orchard that Castiel had shown him a few days ago, Dean untangled himself from the cool comfort of the alpha’s body. “Thank you for your assistance,” Castiel said as he jumped down from the cart. Ketch hummed in disinterest, finally craning his head around to look at them. “I’ll see you later, I suppose.”

Dean nearly snorted at how polite Castiel was, and to this jackass, of all people. Ketch probably didn’t even understand the meaning of the word decency. “If that’s all, I’ll be going now,” Ketch said sharply, shifting the reins in his hands. He gave one last piercing look at Dean, to which he responded with a menacing scowl. “Have a lovely evening, lads.”

“Right, of course,” Castiel said with a small nod as Ketch turned his attention back to driving the cart. At the sound of horse hooves clopping away down the dirt trail, Castiel growled under his breath. “Assbutt,” he muttered, grabbing Dean’s arm and leading him inside the cabin.

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Dean grumbled, allowing Castiel to part with him for a few moments. He set the slices of pie on the small kitchen table and immediately opened the cabinets to search for a glass.

Castiel rummaged through many of the unused kitchen supplies, finally producing a tin can that he dutifully filled from a bucket of water. “Don’t worry, it’s from the creek. I boiled it myself just yesterday,” Castiel assured him, gently setting the glass in Dean’s hands for him to drink.

He hadn’t even realized how thirsty he had been. Dean supposed he had been distracted by other, more pressing matters, but he was grateful all the same.

“I need to get you into bed,” the alpha said suddenly, causing Dean to nearly choke on the last gulp of water. He sputtered and coughed, setting the tin can on the table next to the pie. Well, he certainly didn’t have any objections to that request. When he looked up, he found Castiel’s eyes wide and his skin flushed pink as he realized the implication of his phrasing. “I mean, _to_ bed,” he corrected, trying to look anywhere but directly at Dean. The poor guy just didn’t know how to quit while he was ahead. He stuttered around the phrase until Dean put a stop to the nonsense. “I mean— _nngh_.”

A strangled moan escaped his throat before Castiel relaxed into the omega’s kiss. Dean snaked his hands around the alpha’s neck, drawing him in closer, pressing their bodies flush against one another. He tangled a hand in Castiel’s hair and tugged gently, relishing in the sweet noises the alpha made in response.

Castiel chased after his lips as Dean pulled away, finally giving into his instincts. “I dunno, Cas, into bed sounds pretty good to me.” Dean’s mouth quirked as the alpha’s eyes shot up opened, breathing heavily and clearly still in shock from their heated, and very unexpected, kiss. “Oh, c’mon, don’t tell me you don’t wanna get down and dirty after smelling an omega in heat.”

He chewed his bottom lip nervously, sighing helplessly under Dean’s touch. “Yeah, but… I’m supposed to be—I’m supposed to be on duty in an hour for night watch in the guard tower.”

That was the furthest thing from his mind when Castiel smelled so good, and now that he knew what the alpha tasted like, he was done for. “Fuck the night watch, Cas,” he grumbled, the alpha’s beard bristling against Dean’s lips as he nipped higher on his neck, “—wait, no, fuck me. Somebody else can cover your shift.”

He didn’t care who, if someone showed up early, if someone had to stay late. As long as he could stay with Castiel a little longer, nothing else mattered. “Both of us?” he asked, sucking in a breath as Dean’s incisors grazed lightly across his skin. “You have a medical reason to not show up. What am I supposed to say?”

“Oh, believe me, I can come up with something,” Dean growled, pulling away for long enough to mimic Castiel’s husky voice. “‘My apologies, Mister Singer, I was distracted by the best-looking omega east of the Mississippi,” he teased, thrusting his hips forward to rub his their clothed erections together. “He was in heat, you see, and so handsome, I just couldn’t resist—”

“I’m serious, Dean,” Castiel panted, but he didn’t stop rhythmically pushing against Dean’s waist in response. “Garth is going to be royally pissed when neither of us show up to relieve he and Adam.”

“Garth?” Dean repeated, barely restraining a laugh as he peppered the alpha’s cheek with slightly-less-than-chaste kisses. “Nah, the guy doesn’t get pissed over anything. Sometimes, I wish I had that beta instinct—level-headed, calm, whatever-whatever. But then I couldn’t do something like this.” Dean pulled his hands away from Castiel for long enough to pull out his loosened tie from around his own collar. “You’re going into rut, Cas,” he said through heavy breath, unfastening the buttons on his dress shirt as fast as his fingers would let him. “And I think we both know it’s because of me.”

As soon as the shirt hit the ground, Dean latched onto the alpha’s scent gland again, mouthing and sucking at the sensitive skin. Castiel moaned at his touch, briefly closing his eyes as he gave in. “Mmh, I can—I can go later, later tonight,” he panted, “Just keep doing that, Dean, please.”

The omega mumbled something in response about doing whatever he wanted. Who was he to deny his alpha what they both craved? Besides, if Dean spent one more minute with his clothes still on, he thought he might spontaneously combust. His pants were stretched as far as the fabric would go, his aching cock straining against the material to be released. Dean reached one hand down to unfasten the button and sloppily push them down around his ankles along with his slick-soaked underwear.

Within seconds, the rest of their clothes were scattered frantically in a trail leading to the bed across the room.

They parted long enough for Castiel to pull back the cover and push him roughly onto the mattress, but the alpha’s body covered him in a second. A snarl escaped his throat as Castiel messily pressed his lips to Dean’s, teeth clacking together as the omega wound his hand in Castiel’s hair. Dean whimpered under the alpha’s urgent touch, his dick twitching even more in arousal as Castiel started to explore his body, hands roaming slowly down his sweaty skin.

This is what he had wanted since Castiel opened the damn door to his cabin this evening. Hell, this is what Dean had fantasized over the day he met him, but to be perfectly honest, he never even imagined it would feel this good.

Castiel twisted a finger into the omega’s hole and began to massage the sensitive skin. Stars of pleasure sparked behind Dean’s eyes as he moaned in relief. This was what he had denied himself for three agonizing hours tonight, and Cas—wonderful, generous, sexy, and apparently horny Cas was giving him what he needed.

The alpha broke away from their heated kiss, leaving Dean panting for more as his lips trailed down his neck, his chest, his stomach, and stopped when he reached his hardened cock.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. That itself was almost enough to make him come, but something in the way Castiel kept showering his hole with attention made him crave a knot like he never had before. Castiel added a second digit, a third quickly following with the amount of slick he produced, but it still wasn’t enough to satisfy Dean’s insatiable need to be filled.

He fucked himself desperately on the alpha’s fingers as Castiel stretched him open slowly and methodically, a hungry look set deep in his eyes. When Dean had enough of the torturously slow foreplay, he grabbed Castiel’s face with both hands and pulled the alpha toward him.

“I want your knot,” he growled into his ear, still thrusting against Castiel’s surprised and unmoving fingers. “Yesterday, Cas. Get movin’.” Dean released the alpha from his grasp, grateful when Castiel finally pulled his body up to adjust himself against Dean. He groaned loudly as Castiel pushed into him, still tight despite being stretched so thoroughly only moments before. “Oh, fuck, that’s—you’re amazing, Cas.”

Castiel set an agonizingly slow pace, pushing himself into Dean as far as he could before pulling out of his channel almost all the way. They continued for several minutes, hungrily nipping at each other’s neck and clawing for more.

The alpha paused suddenly just before he entered his hole again, calculating his next move very carefully for someone under the influence of lust. Dean whined at the sudden emptiness, bucking his hips up in search of friction to fill him up. He had never wanted anything so badly before, but right now, all he needed was Castiel.

“Do you trust me?” the alpha asked, his fingers trailing across Dean’s head in a brush of his hair.

“Damn right I do,” he said without an ounce of hesitation. Despite his genuine trust issues and the belief that he was only there to undermine Dean, Castiel had turned out to be one of the most honest people he had ever met. The alpha’s bright blue innocent eyes squinted back at Dean with fondness and admiration. At least he thought that’s what it looked like. People usually didn’t admire him, certainly not when he was in this compromising of a situation with someone. “Alright, I’m done feeling my feels,” he huffed, pulling away from Castiel long enough to crawl over onto his hands and knees.

Dean gripped his hands on the wooden headboard above him, his hole empty and aching as he presented for his alpha. That’s right, his alpha. Maybe it wasn’t permanent or love at first sight or any of the other bullshit Dean didn’t believe in, but there was absolutely no denying that, Castiel was his tonight.

The motion stretched his pelvic muscles, leaving more room in Dean’s wet, pulsating hole for the alpha’s knot. He sucked in a ragged breath and took the length of his own cock into his hand as Castiel filled him, thrusting shallowly once he was deep inside Dean. “You’re awesome, Cas,” he groaned, a lopsided smile on his face as the alpha’s knot hit him in just the right spot.

Dean mentally smacked himself as he started to slow his pace again. He could practically smell the confused squint on Castiel’s face. “How do I fill you with awe?” he asked, much to Dean’s frustration and simultaneous amusement.

“Keep going, you asshole, you’re about to be filling me with something else,” he answered through his teeth, grinding against his dick desperately as Dean moved his hand faster and faster over his own shaft. He was so close, but yet so far away when Castiel took things all sweet and slow. He was beginning to gather the alpha was a bit more romantic than Dean originally thought. Well, he thought with a satisfied grin, a romantic who was really good in bed.

Castiel did as he instructed, his knot starting to swell as he fucked the omega harder with each thrust. Dean groaned loudly as the pressure between them built, squeezing himself harder when the first tremor started to overtake him. His orgasm crashed over him, pulling a shout from his lips as he shot over his own fingers, covering his lower stomach as he quivered in pleasure. He choked back a scream, relishing in every last drop of pleasure from the fantasies he had held in all day.

Dean lost the ability to keep his balance as wave after wave of come shot over the palm of his hand and across his stomach. He collapsed onto the bed in a messy splay of limbs as Castiel fell on top of him. Maybe the wait was worth it after all, he thought in his blissed out state of pleasure. This was incredible. _Cas_ was incredible. Dean couldn’t believe he’d denied himself a knot for so long.

The alpha moaned his name above him, along with a litany of curses he didn’t think Castiel had in him. Dean gladly clenched tighter around the growing knot as he came down from his own high. The omega was pumped full of come as Castiel rode out his own orgasm, locking the pair of them together for the duration.

Dean breathed slowly into the mattress, suddenly aware of how exhausted his heat had made him. The alpha covered him protectively with his whole body as he came down from his high. As Castiel’s weight pressed firmly against him, Dean couldn’t remember why he had ever wanted anything else. Betas were good and all, but nothing compared to the swell of a nice big knot up his ass. He sighed contentedly. A guy could get used to this.

A happy rumble emanated from low in Castiel’s chest as the scent of sated omega washed over the pair of them. Dean didn’t need any more proof that the alpha was nothing but a sap deep down inside. He smiled blissfully into the straw mattress. Underneath the toughness and sarcasm, hell, maybe he was too.

He groaned with relief he didn’t know he needed as Castiel pressed his lips against the back of Dean’s neck. “You’re one sexy son of a bitch, you know that?” Dean mumbled into the straw. He reached next to him lazily and tangled his fingers between Castiel’s.

He couldn’t picture a better place to be right now, and for once, the thought of sneaking away before first light didn’t even cross his mind. 


End file.
